


Kept

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-14
Updated: 2005-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin is kept by a drug lord, and Brian is the new downstairs neighbor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The day dawned like any other. It found Justin wondering how to spend his time this day, anxiously waiting for the night to arrive; thinking if only there was some way to make time stand still because, of course, it wasn't the day that was the problem, it was the night. It was always the night because that's when "he" came.

"He" was Robert. Robert had taken him in and "kept" him since he was 16-years-old, two years ago. Justin still couldn't believe that he was still here. Of course, at first he stayed because he had nowhere else to go. Now he stayed because if he tried to leave he knew he would be dead. Justin was basically Robert's property, and Robert didn't take kindly to losing what he thought was his; bought and paid for. As Justin looked around the loft, that's exactly what he thought, bought and paid for. Robert paid for the loft, paid for Justin's clothes, the food he ate, and, thus, owned him.

The funny thing about Robert is that he already has a family: A wife and a 15-year-old son of his own. Everyone thinks that Robert is a very upstanding businessman in this fine city of Pittsburgh; everyone, that is, except for the politicians and police that are on his payroll. They all know who he really is, and that is the biggest drug kingpin in the city. They also know about the loft and what resides in it because they have all had their taste of that juicy little morsel. It was one of the perks of doing business with Robert; that he allows his boy to be of service to them.

Robert's drug of choice is cocaine. It is ironic how Robert acquires his cocaine, though. It's actually through the police. Jim Stockwell is a wonderful supplier. It helps immensely that he is in on almost every major drug bust, and it also helps that he is on the squad responsible for incinerating those same drugs when the time comes. Jim finds it very easy to exchange most of the cocaine due to be destroyed for some simple white power like baking soda. Nobody knows the difference.

Jim and Robert's relationship goes back a long way, long before their present relationship. They grew up together on the so-called "wrong side of the tracks." It was when they were only 12-years-old that they started their own protection racket, and they have never looked back.

Justin pondered all of this as he started about his day. I'll tidy up the loft, he thought. Then what will I do? Maybe do some sketching? That is his one true passion, is his art. If Robert knew he still had his art, he would break every one of his fingers. Of that he had no doubt. 

Justin's thoughts are interrupted by voices coming up from the floor below. I have nothing better to do, might as well find out what's going on. Justin pulls open the loft door and listens to the voices. Someone was directing people -- probably movers by the sound of it -- where to put furniture in the loft below his. Great, a new neighbor, he thought. Maybe that will make Robert be a little more careful in how far he pushes me around when he is so stoned he doesn't know what he is doing.

Robert gets ugly when he's drunk or drugged out of his mind on his cocaine. His favorite thing to do is see what color bruises he can make on Justin's body; how far he can push his boy. Of course, that went for everyone else who used him, too. It didn't bother Robert at all. Robert considers it a service to the people who do things for him.

Luckily Robert didn't know Justin's biggest secret, and that is that every person who has used or abused him has been caught on tape. Justin has quite the library of the good, the bad, and the ugly -- but mostly the bad and the ugly. He always thought at least he would have a little insurance if something happened. He didn't quite know what might happen, but he had it if he needed it. The collection was in the hundreds by now.

He was pulled back out of his thoughts again by a loud, cursing voice. "Fuck you, if you scratch my Italian leather sofa. That thing costs more than you will ever make in your lifetime." Justin smiles at that and wonders if it was a guy who was gay having a queen moment or just some rich prick. Maybe later I'll go intoduce myself and find out, he thought.

After having showered and done all of the tidying he could in the minimalist designed loft, Justin thought he might as well get his art supplies together and head to his favorite place, the park. At least there were kids there who were allowed to be kids, nothing expected of them except to be happy and play. He had been like that once as a child, but not for long. He put his sketch pad and extra charcoals in his backpack and locked the door behind him. His hand hovered over the elevator button, but then decided he would take the stairs and see if he could get a glimpse of that new neighbor with apparently expensive taste.

Bounding down the stairs, he came upon the open door to the loft below. Moving men were still milling about inside, and a rather tall man -- at least compared to Justin -- was standing just inside the door surveying his domain; for that's what it looked like, the king looking over his castle. Justin tentatively knocks on the door, and the tall man whirls around with fury in his eyes. They soften immediately when the tall man gets his eyefull of what's standing in front of him.

Brian has never been dumbfounded when coming face to face with someone, but this sure takes the cake. Who is this kid, and where did he come from, he thought. My, God, that soft gold hair, stylishly shaggy, those blue eyes, and those very luscious lips. He wanted to reach out and touch them.

"Hi," the vision said. "My name is Justin." The kid held out his hand and Brian took it. "Hi, Justin. I'm Brian Kinney. So," Brian asks, "you live with your parents here?" Justin has himself a small chuckle and finally says, "No. I live in the loft above yours." Brian raises is eyebrows at this. How old is this kid, he wonders, and where the hell does he get the money to afford this place? "Well, I better get going," the kid said. "Daylight is burning and I've got things to do. Later." "Later," Brian says, and watches as the kid bounds down the rest of the stairs. That's when Brian sees one of the finest sights he has seen since coming face to face with the kid, and that's his ass. My, God, he thinks to himself, I've got to get me some of that. 

Just then there is a loud crash behind Brian, and he turns around with more expletives flowing out of his mouth. As Justin hits the bottom floor and opens the door, he hears Brian yelling and cursing. Yes, definitely gay and a queen moment, he thinks, and maybe also just a bit of a rich prick.


	2. Kept

Thank you for all of the nice reviews. This is my first fiction. A special thank you to Mary, Cara and Tay for all of your support. I forgot to mention that the plot bunny came from the British movie Endgame. Check it out.

* * *

Robert sits in his office looking over the accounts that are set out in front of him. Something is definitely out of place with the receipts from the gay bar called Golden Eye. There isn't nearly enough money showing up in that ledger column. Who the hell did Jeffrey Lambert think he was dealing with? If he wanted protection -- especially protection from Robert -- he was going to have to pay for it.

Robert picks up his phone and buzzes out to Marsha. "Send in Sam and Andy right now, " he says. After a short pause, there is a knock on the door. Sam and Andy walk in, looking forward to whatever assignment Robert has for them. It has been far too long since they have had an opportunity to break a few limbs or heads. They have a zeal and gusto for that part of their job.

Robert looks up at them, indicating for them to have a seat. "We have a problem over at the Golden Eye. What the hell have you two been doing over there?" Sam and Andy look sheepishly at the floor, not wanting to meet Robert's gaze. They are both bigger than him, but he is the boss, the man with a few cops in his back pocket. You didn't mess with Robert. Sam decides to suck it up and speak first. "The guy is refusing to pay up. He even had a gun behind the bar the last time we were in." Well, thinks Robert, we need to pay this fag a visit, and soon.

As he glares at Sam and Andy, Robert picks up the phone to dial the loft. To his exasperation, he gets the answering machine. Waiting the appropriate time to leave a message, he sits there and rubs his forehead. "Justin, tomorrow night I have a job for you. Charlie will pick you up at 8:00. Be on time. You know how I hate tardiness. By the way, I won't be over until 10:00 tonight. Wear something nice."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin sits on the bleachers in the park watching the kids play soccer. It is a beautiful early spring day, something uncommon this time of year in Pittsburgh, and he decides to lay his sketch pad to the side and just soak in the sun. As he sits back, he closes his eyes and thinks back to better times. The memory of one particularly good day comes to mind, and he smiles. He sees himself at 10, sitting on a dock that juts out into a small pond. Sitting on the dock with him is his sister -- well, technically stepsister since he was adopted. His mom and dad had always been honest with him and told him about it when he was old enough to understand; that he was loved as much as their biological child, but he was special because they had chosen him. Justin and his sister are throwing a stick in the water for their chocolate Lab, Hershey. God, how he had loved that dog. Across from the dock is a small dingy sitting in the water, and in it are Justin's mom and dad sharing a laugh. Quite frankly, at this point he doesn't know if the memory is actually how it all looked, or if he has started to idealize all of the past moments in his life. It's funny how time can erode your memory and make things look different.

Just then a soccer ball comes crashing into the bleachers and pulls Justin out of his reverie. He looks up and notices the sun has slipped considerably lower in the sky. My, God, he thinks, what the hell time is it? Looking at his watch, he sees that he has been sitting here doing nothing for at least three hours. Shit, I have to get back. If Robert gets to the loft and I'm not there, there will be hell to pay. Even if I am there, there is sometimes hell to pay.

Justin practically runs all the way back to the loft. He decides to forego the stairs and the possibility of running into Brian Kinney, even though he thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea. As his anxiety starts to kick in, he calls for the elevator instead. Arriving outside the door to the loft, Justin takes a deep breath and unlocks the door. "Robert," he shouts. No answer. Thank God. Seeing the answering machine blinking, he listens to the message that was left earlier. Ah, free until 10:00.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robert arrives at his home late. He knows he's late, and his wife is going to have his balls for dinner if he doesn't play it right. Getting out of the car, he tells Charlie to leave it running; that the family will be out shortly to go to the concert. Opening the front door, he can hear his son practicing his violin. Robert slowly closes his eyes, thanking God that this will be the last time he has to hear his son practicing this particular piece of music that the Pittsburgh Junior Symphony will be playing tonight. I have truly come to hate Mozart, he thinks to himself.

As he is standing there pondering this, Sarah, Robert's wife, appears at the top of the stairs. "You're late," she says. Don't you fucking think I know that, Robert thinks. Of course, he would never speak to Sarah like that. There would be hell to pay. "Yes, I know," he simply says. "I'm sorry. I got caught up in meetings." "I've already laid out your tux on the bed. Please change quickly so we can be on our way." Robert ascends the stairs, already untucking and removing his shirt to put on the tux that Sarah has laid out for him.

After changing and freshening up a bit, Robert opens his son's door and lets him know it's time to go. "It sounds wonderful, Scott. Don't worry about tonight. Everything will be fine. Come on. Charlie has the car running, and we need to go."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

After all is said and done, Robert has to admit that the concert was quite good. He sits comfortably in the back seat of the Mercedes with his hand on Sarah's knee. Scott sits in the front with Charlie, who is carrying on a conversation with Scott. Sarah turns to Robert and says, "I don't understand who has business meetings at 10:00 at night." Robert sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "I told you," he says, "it's a businessman from Rio, and he only has this time available. He has to leave early tomorrow morning to go back home." "Well, if you come home smelling of whiskey and cigars, just sleep in the spare room." Fine with me, thinks Robert. As they pull up in front of the house and Scott gets out of the car, Robert puts down his window and lets his son know what a wonderful job he did. Sarah just turns and walk away.

Charlie turns to Robert and asks, "Where to, boss?" Robert sighs impatiently and practically yells out where the fuck do you think I'm going this time of night. Instead, he reigns in his emotions and calmly says, "The loft." Charlie can't help but smile a bit. God, how he wants a taste of what is at the loft. It has been denied to him for two years. He wonders if he will ever be able to get his dick in that ass. One can dream, can't one?

Charlie pulls up outside the loft about 20 minutes later. As Robert is opening the door he says, "Pick me up at midnight. And don't be late." "Yeah, right," Charlie says. "I know you have a punctuality fetish, boss. Jesus, I've only been driving you everywhere you go for the last five years." Robert smiles and gives him a smack to the back of the head. Can't have the hired help thinking they can get away with everything.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

For most of the evening Justin sat on the sectional channel surfing. After hearing Robert's message he had decided to take another shower and get ready for him. Black leather pants, a button-down shirt with only the two middle buttons buttoned, and his hair just so. Yeah, this would meet with Robert's approval. God, am I bored, he thought, as he took a drag off of his third cigarette in the last hour.

Just then he heard the key in the lock. Straightening up a bit, he clicks off the TV and heads into the kitchen where all of the liquor is kept. Robert walks in and sits on the sectional, eyeing his boy. Justin prepares Robert's scotch and sits it in front of him taking a place across the sectional out of Robert's reach. Robert looks down at the coffee table, seeing that Justin has laid out his usual fare: A shot of scotch and two lines of cocaine. What a good boy. Robert picks up the mirror and does his lines of coke. He offers the mirror to Justin, who shakes his head no. He always shakes his head no. You'd think Robert would get a clue that Justin does not do drugs. Alcohol, yes; hard drugs, no.

Robert eyes Justin sitting there smoking yet another cigarette. "Come over here," he says. Justin looks at Robert and grinds out the cigarette in the ashtray and walks over to him. Standing, Robert takes Justin's face in both of his hands and kisses him, almost tenderly. He reaches down and slowly starts to unbutton and remove Justin's shirt. He sits Justin down on the sectional and kneels between his legs, kissing along his thighs and running his hands up to Justin's cock. That's when the coke and scotch kicks in, and Robert feels this evil streak start to run through his body. He wants to take his boy rough. "We've got a new neighbor," Justin informs Robert. "What the fuck do I care about that," says Robert, as he cocks an eyebrow at Justin. "Well, we might need to be a little less noisy. He lives right below our loft." Fuck that, thinks Robert. I'll do what the hell I want in my place. The comment by Justin actually pisses Robert off a bit more than he's already feeling. If Sarah can put him in his place, then he can put Justin in his. Hierarchy can be a bitch, especially when you're at the bottom of the pile.

Robert pulls Justin back up to a standing position and spins him around and grabs him around the waist, roughly unbuttoning and unzipping the leather pants. Robert, none too gently, reaches in and grabs ahold of Justins's cock and starts to rub it up and down. Justin leans his head against Robert's shoulder and lets out a sigh. That's my boy, thinks Robert.

Having had enough foreplay, at least for Robert, he pushes Justin onto his stomach on the sectional and pulls his leather pants the rest of the way down. He had trained Justin well; no underwear for his boy. Robert doesn't bother with a condom. Never has, never will. Justin is the only one he fucks, and he is the only one who fucks Justin without one. All of his associates have had it explained to them that they have to wear one if they are to have his boy.

Justin grabs ahold of the back of the sectional to give himself some support as Robert grabs his hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He pushes in rough, hard and dry. Justin lets out a yell and Robert reaches around and puts a hand over his mouth. Can't have the new neighbor calling the cops, now can we? Although any cop that shows up will probably, in all likelihood, be one of his. "Tell me, Justin, who do you belong to," Robert asks. "You. I belong to only you." "Who are you ever going to belong to?" "I will only belong to you." "That's right," Robert hisses in his ear, "you best remember that you are only Robert's and you will always be Robert's."

After finally cuming, not worrying about whether Justin cums, Robert pulls out and stands there panting. He rode his boy hard tonight. Justin lies against the sectional trying to catch his breath. He tries to bring himself back to the present. You see Justin has learned, over the years, a good coping mechanism -- at least for him. He just goes somewhere else in his mind while his body is being used.

Well, Justin thinks, at least it's done and he will be going soon. As he starts to stand up, Robert smacks him to the floor and places a few well-aimed kicks into his back. Justin lands with a hard thud, a small yell, and just stays there. That's going to leave a few new bruises for my collection, Justin thinks to himself. Robert composes himself and steps over Justin's body. Just then the buzzer sounds, signalling that Charlie has returned to take him home. "Justin, remember tomorrow night; 8:00, and don't be late," Robert says as he adjusts his tie and walks out the door.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian is sitting at his computer as he hears the elevator motor start up. He walks to the door and listens, just to make sure it doesn't stop at this floor, even though he knows he didn't let anyone into the building. He wasn't expecting company.

As he stands there listening, he hears it move past his floor and go up to the top floor. Must be the kid, he thinks. As Brian heads back to his computer to do some more work, he thinks he hears someone cry out. No, must be his imagination, or maybe someone on the street. After about 30 minutes passes, he swears he hears a thud and then another cry. He raises his hand to the phone to call the police, but then he puts it back down. Brian sits there looking at the ceiling, but no other sound seems to be coming from upstairs. He hears the elevator start again, going all the way down this time. It's none of my business, he thinks. If the kid likes it rough, that's his business; or whatever the hell is going on up there.


	3. Kept

As the sun travels across the room, Justin tries to rouse himself. He knows he has to get up eventually. It just hurts too much, any which way he turns. It hurts to lay too long on his back where Robert had kicked him the night before, and it hurts to lay too long on his right side where Robert's hand had held him as he rode him the night before. He could even feel a few small abrations across his face where he had covered his mouth to keep him from yelling out too loudly when he had taken him so roughly and forcefully.

Get up, Justin, he keeps telling himself. If you would only get up and get in the shower, things will begin to feel a little better. Slowly he rolls over and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his back out. He walks into the bathroom to see if he can survey the damage any better. By the feeling he has on his face, he thought it would be worse, but he can barely see any bruising there at all. Robert doesn't like to bruise Justin's face, too many questions by people who might see him out on the streets. His back and shoulder were another matter. Two very large bruises had started to form; one on his mid back and the other in the lower back. He had a clear impression of a hand on his right shoulder over his clavicle. The one on his left ribcage was still there, but was no longer painful. That one had been courtesy of a town coucilman. 

The steam of the shower felt wonderful. Every muscle starts to loosen up, and Justin starts to feel at least somewhat better. Leaving the bathroom he heads to the kitchen, and sees the machine still blinking with the message from the day before. Yes, how can I forget. Robert has something for me to do at 8:00 tonight, and don't be late. Robert hates lateness, in all things. Justin figures he might as well get his day started and at least do something before he has to go do whatever this mysterious assignment is. He's never had Justin fuck someone outside of the loft, so he really doesn't think it has anything to do with that. He heads over to the stereo, puts on some Moby and cranks it up, hoping to get himself motivated.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian steps out of the loft, cup of coffee in hand and a toasted bagel. I know I should swing by the diner and see Deb, he thinks, but I just don't have time this morning. This will be his first full day in his new job, his new place, and hopefully his new life. He had been screwed in his old job, and not in a positive, life-affirming way, either. One of the partners had decided to take his ideas and run with them, claiming them as his own. He didn't need that shit, and he could do so much better for himself in a new city. Well, not actually new since he was originally from Pittsburgh. New York had been fun and exciting, but oh so tedious; and well, hell, face it, he was lonely there. His extended, adoptive family lived in Pittsburgh. He knew one of the partners of this new firm, and this partner knew his worth and snatched him up when Brian approached him about this opportunity. Ryder was a new start, and he planned to make the most of it. 

As he turns to lock his door, he hears the music come from upstairs. Jesus H. Christ, kid. It's 7:30 in the fucking morning. Let people sleep before you decide to wake the dead. Kids these days; no respect for anything or anybody. My, God, did I just think that? When did I start to sound so old? I definitely need to get out tonight and see how the other half lives on Liberty Avenue before I start turning into a pumpkin at midnight, thought Brian. I'll give Mikey a call, see if he wants to meet up somewhere.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day was as beautiful as the day before, so it found Justin once again sitting in the bleachers in the park watching the kids. Geez, he hoped nobody thought he was a pedophile, with all of the time he always spent there sitting and sketching and just sometimes staring off into space. So far, thankfully, nobody had ever called the cops on him. He was having another one of his waking dreams, he likes to call them; thinking back to his family on the farm. Not a big farm, mind you, but enough to keep the family comfortable. This time they were having a picnic, and the dandelion fuzz was so thick in the air it looked like snow falling from the sky. He can remember sneezing so much he thought his lungs were going to explode. But that hadn't stopped him from wanting to be there. He loved his family, and this was such a wonderful time. Again, that nagging doubt creeps into Justin's head. Is this a true memory, or something idealized? 

Next he flashes to two young faces standing looking out the window as the police lead his mother away in handcuffs, and the paramedics take the body bag away in the ambulance. His sister has her arm around him, telling him everything will be all right as the social worker takes them both away. Justin never sees his sister again, nor his mother. He definitely never sees his father because he was buried three days later.

Someone walks up to him and asks him the time, and he's startled to realization. "Shit," he mutters. "It's 5:30, ma'am." Damn, damn, damn, not again. I've got to stop doing this, losing time. I've got to get back and be there for 8:00 or my ass is grass, and you know who will be the lawn mower. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's 6 o'clock and Brian sits at the bar at Woody's waiting for Mikey to show up. Lo and behold, who walks in but the kid. What the fuck is he doing in here? How the hell can he get in? Jesus, he only looks like he's 12, for God's sake. I've got to stop calling him kid, he thinks. What was his name again? Yeah, I remember the lips and the ass, but what did he say his name was? Shit, Kinney, don't have a senior moment at 30. 

Justin walks up to the bartender to ask for a pack of cigarettes. He sees Brian and gives him a smile. Damn, thinks Brian, look at that smile. All right, I really need to slap myself here. When did I become such a lesbian? 

"Hey, kid -- Justin, is it?"

"Yeah, that's right. Brian, right?"

"Your memory is intact, kid. I'm waiting for someone, but come and have a drink with me."

"I can't. I have to be somewhere."

"Oh, come on, kid. One drink won't kill you."

If only he knew, thought Justin. Yes, one drink just might kill him. One drink might kill Brian if the wrong person saw him having it with Justin.

"Well, just hang and have a drink until my friend gets here. It's pathetic sitting at this bar alone. No upstanding fag would be caught in this position."

Justin softly chuckles, thinking that he's really starting to like this guy. Maybe he was wrong about him at first, thinking he was just a queen and a rich prick.

"What will you have," the bartender asks.

Justin points to a bottle of Becks and says, "I'll have one of those." "Make that two," Brian pipes in.

Brian sits there and eyes Justin out of the corner of his eye. "What?", Justin finally says. "Spill it, Kinney."

"Just wondering how you, looking all of 12-years-old, can live in a loft as expensive as the ones we live in are, and then you can saunter into this bar and get a pack of smokes, order a beer, and nobody thinks anything of it."

Justin's mind starts to work in overdrive. Got to think of a good lie for this one. Of course, the bartender would never let it slip who he really was. He would always play along if he overheard anything.

"Well, if you must know, Mr. Kinney, I happen to be a model. A very successful one, I might add. As far as being allowed into the bar, I've been coming down here since I was 16." Now, that wasn't a lie. "They've known me for a long time. Nobody bothers me about ID or any of that shit."

Brian ponders this before asking, "Really? I'm in advertising. I don't recall seeing your pretty face anywhere before."

Shit, shit, shit. What now, Justin? "Well, you've heard of body models, right? I've had my eyes in pics, my hands, hell even my feet; not to mention just my hair in some shampoo ads. If you would take those ads and put all of those parts together, you'd end up with me."

Brian thought about this. That was perfectly plausible. He had used specific body part models himself in certain ads. And not being in Pittsburgh for the last five years, this kid certainly could have been around this area and he would have no knowledge of him.

Soon the talk turns to other more mundane things: Politics, religion, sports -- there wasn't much talk there -- cars. Before Brian knew it, almost an hour and a half had flown by. What's wrong with you Kinney? You're sitting here with a gorgeous kid with an ass that won't quit, and you're talking? Man, you are losing it. But it was such a pleasurable experience. He really liked this kid. He found Justin to be smart and intelligent, and always had a come-back for some snarky comment that Brian would make. He toyed with the idea of asking Justin about the noises the night before, but then decided against it. 

Just then Brian spotted Mikey finally walking into the bar. "For Christ's sake, Mikey, where the fuck have you been?"

"Sorry, Brian. I had some stock come into the store that I had to take care of. If I had your new cell phone number I could have called you, but, no, Mr. Secretive won't give that out."

Michael sits down next to Brian on the other side and looks across at Justin. What the hell kind of twink has Brian picked up now, he thinks. Jesus Christ, Brian, keep it in your pants for one night, would you?

"Michael Novotny, I would like you to meet one of my neighbors, Justin . . ."

"Taylor," Justin finishes for Brian. "Nice to meet you Michael. What kind of shop do you have?"

"I own a comic book store." Whenever Michael said that, he always expected the usual smart-ass remark from somone. Didnt' people realize that comic books were actually an artistic form of expression?

"Wow, that's great," the kids says. "Some of the world's most innovative art has come from comic books."

Michael's mouth is hanging open. Did this kid just say what I think he said? Does he actually get it? No smart-ass remark coming out of that mouth?

"Hey, Mikey, shut your mouth. Flies are beginning to congregate."

Just then Justin gets a glance at the bar's clock. Shit, where did the time go? He was going to be late getting back to the loft, and Charlie was going to be there at 8:00 to pick him up. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Hey, look, guys, I really have get out of here. I have an appointment I have to make."

Brian looks at his watch. What model has an appointment at this time of night? "Hey, kid, listen, I'm having a housewarming party tomorrow night. Nothing big, just a few close friends over. Why don't you stop by around 7:00 or so?"

"I'll see what I can do," Justin replies. Frankly, he doesn't want to commit to anything right now. He doesn't know how his body will be feeling tomorrow after whatever Robert has planned for him tonight.

"Well, if you can make it, I'll see you then."

At that, Justin gets off the barstool and waves bye to both of the men, making his way to the door and running out onto the sidewalk.

"Brian, I smell trouble with that kid. How can someone that young afford a loft in your building?"

"He's a model, Mikey." Although Brian was starting to have his doubts about that.

"So how about you and me and the Professor having some fun tonight?"

"Sure," Michael says. "Let me make a call and we'll meet up at Babylon."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin stops in front of the Mercedes trying to catch his breath. Charlie stands there, leaning against the car, with his arms folded across his chest. 

"Not a good start to the evening, Justin. You're late. You know how Robert hates to be kept waiting. Just get in the God damn car."

Justin climbs in the back seat, trying to look at anything but the reflection of Charlie looking at him in the rearview mirror. Charlie has always given him the creeps, but now that he was alone with him in the car, it is especially unnerving.

"So, Justin, taken it up the ass today yet?"

Justin just turns his head and looks out the window. I will just ignore this, he keeps thinking. Don't spar with this asshole.

"You know, I've often wondered what it must be like, having it up the ass. I mean, I know when I've had a touch of the roids and had to put some cream up there, it hurt like shit. That's why you do it, isn't it, for the pain. Just like cats. So how much would you charge me then, if I gave you one up the old dirt box?"

All right. Now I'll take the bait Justin told himself.

"Oh, you'd get staff rates. Or free if it was your first time. But it wouldn't be, would it, your first time?"

Charlie looks in the rearview mirror and sees Justin smirking at him. He wants to reach behind him and wipe that smirk off of his face, preferably with his fist. Robert would not look too kindly on him for that. And the thought dawned on him that maybe that's what Justin was trying to get him to do, get in hot water with Robert.

"Nice try, kid."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie pulls up in front of the Golden Eye bar. Geez, Justin thought, I thought they had closed this place up years ago.

Robert steps out of the shadows and approaches the car, looking at his watch. Charlie should have been here 15 minutes ago. "Traffic," he asks.

"Got a late start," Charlie says, and gestures with his head to the back seat.

At that, Robert opens the back door and grabs Justin with a vise grip on his upper arm and yanks him out of the car. 

"I want you to go in the bar and talk to the bartender," Robert explains to Justin. "He's the guy in the striped shirt. Just talk him up a bit."

"Talk to him?"

"Yes. Am I speaking fucking English?"

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"What the fuck do I care? Talk about nuclear physics."

With that he puts his hand on the back of Justin's neck and holds him in a hard grip. "Don't fuck this up." And shoves him in the direction of the bar.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin is standing at the bar as instructed. He gets the attention of the bartender that was described to him. They exchange names. Jeffrey Lambert, he tells Justin, is his name, and he's the owner of this fine establishment. Well, to that Justin has to scoff just a bit. The place has definitely seen better times, but there is still good patronage there.

As they are talking, Sam walks up. Justin sees him out of the corner of his eye. It's one of Robert's enforcers. This is not good. There is definitely going to be trouble here tonight.

"Are you talking to my boyfriend?" Sam asks Jeff.

"No, just having a bit of conversation. I'm the bartender. It's my job."

"I think you're trying to pick up by boyfriend."

With that, Sam reaches a beefy arm over the bar and hauls Jeff's body all the way down the bar, breaking every glass and bottle that sits on it as he slides down the bar. A hand comes up behind Justin and steers him back to the door that leads out of the bar. It's Charlie, and he's been instructed to get Justin the hell out of there once the trouble starts and the crowd starts to panic and exit the bar in droves. He was told to have him wait in the car for Robert.

Sam and Andy have hauled Jeff into the storage room of the bar. There he is laid face down on the prep table. As Robert walks in he's handed a broom handle that has been shaped into a dull point at one end. He walks to the side of the table where Jeff's head is and squats down. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. What are we going to do with you?" He asks Jeff. "What's this, our fifth, sixth visit?" Sam nods his head in agreement. Robert fondles the pointy end of the broom handle so Jeff can see it. "What do I have to do to get through to you, hmm? We provide a service that has to be paid for. Do you know what it means if I have to pay a visit? It means that I have got a severe ass ache. Tell me I won't have to come here again."

"Never, I promise. Never," Jeff grunts.

Sam and Andy slide Jeff down to the end of the table until Jeff's feet hit the floor. His pants are taken down. Robert walks behind Jeff carrying the stick.

"I can't take the credit for this one," Robert says. "This one is Sam's idea. He thought there would be a vague chance you'd enjoy it."

With that Robert puts the pointy end of the broom handle in his mouth to lubricate it. He wasn't a total animal, he thought to himself, and proceeds to rape Jeff with it. The screams could be heard outside. Justin could hear them in the car.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robert sits next to Justin in the back seat of the car. He gazes out the window thinking not an altogether bad evening. He got his point across -- no pun intended -- and word would get around not to fuck with him. Charlie once again is staring intently at Justin in the rearview mirror. Justin is trying to look anywhere else but up front; definitely not trying to look at the floorboard where the discarded broom handle sits. Justin could make out the blood soaking into the wood. Did Robert have plans to use this on him, too? 

Finally Justin has had enough and tells Charlie, "Just fuck off." Robert's head snaps back to the front and he glares at Charlie. Charlie knows when to retreat to a better time. Robert wraps his left arm around Justin's shoulder and puts his right hand under Justin's shirt, rubbing his chest and his nipples, nuzzling him on his neck just below his ear. Robert can feel Justin stiffen at his touch. He looks up into Justin's eyes and follows his gaze to the floorboard and the broom handle.

"No, no, my love. It's all right. I forgive you for being late this time. Nothing is going to happen tonight. I've got business matters on my mind."


	4. Kept

The next chapter may take me a bit longer to get up. I do have to work some time to pay those bills that never seem to stop coming.

* * *

Brian groans as the alarm clock wakes him up way too early, at least from his perspective. Shit, he and Mikey and the Professor had stayed at Babylon a little too late last night -- or he should say this morning. He had forgotten how once you were in that place, it was hard to leave. He got in at 2:30, and now the damn alarm clock was going off at 6:30. I'm getting too old for this shit, he thinks. I'm supposed to be an adult now, right? No, Wendy, I don't want to ever grow up. I better get my shit together. Don't want to fuck up my new position, especially since I'm just getting started here. Up, Kinney. Come on, just get the fuck up.

After having showered and shaved, Brian steps out of his loft, ready to take the stairs, when he hears the elevator coming from the floor above. He quickly hits the down button on the elevator, hoping he did so in time so that it will stop at his floor. He's also hoping that Justin is going to be inside. 

The elevator stops, and Brian lifts the cargo up. Standing there with an apple in his mouth, those lucious lips wrapped around it, is just the sight he wants to see. 

"Hey, Justin. What a coincidence."

God, the kid gives me a smile that goes right to my dick. I'm probably going to need to take care of the second boner of the morning at the office after this elevator ride. Or maybe the kid would oblige? After finally having finished his bite of apple, which I might add I would just love to lick the juice off of his lips, he can finally speak.

"Hey, Brian. So what time is the party tonight?"

"Are you coming? I thought you were pretty noncommittal yesterday. You can show up any time after 7:00."

"Well, I need to get out a bit, meet some other people. I'll try to be there. Can I bring anything?"

"Nah. Mikey's mom, Debbie, is bringing a bunch of food; plus there's Emmett. You'll like Emmett, everybody does. He has a catering business, and he's bringing some food over."

Just then the elevator comes to a more abrupt stop than either Brian or Justin expected, having reached the ground floor. Justin falls into Brians arms, and there is a momentary pause as both men look into each other's eyes and wonder what the hell should happen next? Brian knows what he wants to happen; and so does Justin, but Justin knows that it can't. He can't put anyone at risk for his sake. Geez, Justin thinks, how did I never notice how gorgeous his eyes are? As Justin jerks himself out of Brian's grip, he drops his backpack and the contents scatter onto the elevator floor. 

"What's all this?" Brian asks.

"Just my sketching supplies."

"Let me see."

"I'm not a professional or anything, I just like to draw."

"Let me be the judge of that, kid. Remember, I'm in advertising."

Justin and Brian step out of the elevator as Brian starts to flip through Justin's sketch book. He is really impressed. This kid has talent.

"I'm impressed, Justin. You should do something with your talent. Have you thought about going to art school?"

"Well, first, before going to college, I do believe you have to have a high school diploma. That's something I don't have."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Just never had the time, with all of the modeling and everything. Always figured I would worry about it after I got out of the biz." 

Justin cringes inside. He hates to carry on with this lie, but he sees no other recourse.

"You should really think about that. You could go places with your art that modeling would never take you. You only have your looks for so long, you know."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Kinney, for that glowing appraisal of my future," Justin laughs.

"Come on, you know what I mean. Where are you going? Can I give you a lift?"

"No, everything is taken care of. It's all out of control," he smiles. "Hopefully I'll see you tonight. Later."

As they step out of the building, they each go their separate ways, but Brian can't help but look back to just have one more look at that gorgeous ass. Damn, I still have to get me some of that, Brian muses.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After having gotten his fill of walking around and window shopping, a soft snow starts to gently fall. Justin is trying to figure out where he can go to sketch, since the park is definitely out of the question this morning. How about the library? I haven't been there in a while. Nobody will bother me there.

As Justin crosses the street, he spots a store that he never really took notice of before. Huh, Red Cape Comics. I'm on Liberty Avenue, I wonder if this is Michael's place, he thinks. It wouldn't hurt to check it out.

Justin walks into the store out of the cold, and, sure enough, there stands MIchael behind the counter, involved in an indepth conversation of the attributes of some superhero that Justin knows nothing about with what looks like an 11-year-old. The debate seems to be in full force when Michael hears the bell over his front door. He looks up and there stands the twink from the night before. Oh, be nice, Michael. You don't even know him yet. Plus he did say nice things about comics.

"Hey -- Justin, was it?"

"Yeah. Good memory, Michael. Great store," Justin says as he walks around and is so dazzled by all of the comic book art he sees. "I really love this stuff. I was so into anime a few years back."

"Not many people admit to it." 

Even though Michael got a bad vibe off of Justin last night at Woody's, he's willing to take a leap of faith here.

"Listen, it's lunch time. Want to come to the diner with me for a bite?"

"Sure. I've got nothing better to do right now. Plus food is always a priority for people my age."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Michael and Justin walk into the diner, and the first thing Justin hears and sees is the loudest woman in the place -- and quite probably one of the few women in the place. 

"Mikey," she screams. "How is my baby boy?"

"Good, ma. Come on, let me breathe," he asks as he tries to extricate himself from the woman's grasp.

"And who in the hell do we have here?" she asks eyeing Justin.

"Ma, this is Justin. He's Brian's neighbor."

As she takes Justin's face in her hands and squeezes, she says, "Well, my, aren't you just a gorgeous piece of ass. Every guy in here has his eye on you, honey."

Justin blushes at this, which only makes Debbie like him all the more. Good looking and modest, and probably shy. Where has this kid been hanging out. And how in the hell can he afford to live in the building that Brian does. Her mind begins to speculate on what might be going on there.

"Ok, ma, leave Justin alone. You can fawn all over him tonight. He'll be at Brian's party."

After having ordered their lunch and finished eating, both Michael and Justin get up to leave, with Debbie following close behind, kissing her son. She turns quickly and gives Justin a kiss, too, which Justin can honestly say makes him feel wonderful. He hasn't had a mother figure kiss him like that in a long time.

"Later, Michael. See you tonight, " Justin waves as he walks away.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since it is still snowing out, Justin decides just to head back to the loft to do his sketching. He has frittered away more than half of the day, might as well just go home, he thought. 

As he walks into the loft, a sudden realization occurs to him that one usually brings a gift to a housewarming. What do I do? He sat there thinking about it when it suddenly dawned on him, why not a sketch? But what do I sketch? Justin sat their thinking about Brian, what little he knew about him, but his artist's eye had caught a few things: Okay, he was gay -- that's a given -- his hair was always just so, as were his clothes, and especially his furniture. So only one conclusion there, he's pretty vain. A sketch of him would probably make him happy. Justin gets himself comfortable on the sectional and takes out his charcoals and sketch pad and starts on many different versions of Brian, finally picking out the one he likes best, tearing it out, rolling it up and tying it with a ribbon. That should make him happy. Every vain, gay man likes looking at himself.

Justin walks into the kitchen to get a bottle of water and notices that Robert's supply of scotch is running low. Shit, I had better get out of here and get some more. He'll have a shit fit if there's no scotch. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Justin prepares to leave for Brian's party, the thought suddenly hits him, what if Robert comes over while I'm down there? I have to have some kind of excuse. Justin grabs the new bottle of scotch that he purchased a few hours earlier, grabs the sketch, and heads downstairs, giving the loft one last glance to make sure everything is in its place. Now where to stash the scotch to grab when I leave. He looks around the hall and suddenly spots the cabinet for the fire hose. Opening the door, he wedges the bottle in there. Now just don't forget it when you leave, Justin.

After knocking on the door, it is opened by none other than Debbie. Justin thought she was loud at the diner, but he can swear he has become hearing impaired after her greeting of him this evening. 

"Hey, Brian, it's that gorgeous piece of ass I met today at the diner," Debbie hollers across the loft.

Every eye in the place turns to look at Debbie and Justin. He wants to crawl under a rock right now, but Debbie has taken Justin by the arm and is dragging him into the living room area. 

"Come on, Deb, give the kid a break," Brian finally intervenes. "He doesn't know any of us, and you're embarrassing him. Just look at that color of red you've made him turn."

Actually, Justin thinks, you're making me turn more red than she is, Brian. Stop talking about me. Justin hands over his gift to Brian, much to Brian's surprise, it appears. His eyebrows go up as if to say, for me? He hands Michael his drink and unties the ribbon, unrolling the sketch.

"Let me see," Debbie pushes her way over. "Wow, Sunshine, that's beautiful."

"Of course it's beautiful. It's me, isn't it?" says Brian, sticking his tongue in the side of his cheek.

Justin just stands there thinking, 'Sunshine?' Where in the hell did that come from? 

Brian leaves the conversation as there's another knock on the door. 

"Well, hello there, Carl. So glad one of Pittsburgh's finest could make it."

At the sound of that, Justin's mind jumps to attention. No, not a cop. Was he one of Robert's cops? If he was, did he know about Justin? Had he ever fucked Justin? Was he one of the ones he had upstairs in his vast video collection that he kept just in case he would ever need it? Slowly Justin turns around and sees a face he has never seen before. No, I don't think this one is on the payroll. He actually looks like an honest working schlump of a cop: Old suit, old shoes, nothing fancy about him.

Debbie walks over to Carl and throws her arms around him and gives him a big kiss. Apparently they're a couple, Justin realizes.

"Come over here, Carl," Debbie says as she drags him over in front of Justin. "I want you to meet a gorgeous, and obviously talented young man. Carl Horvath, meet Justin" --

"Taylor," Justin offers.

Justin sees no recognition in Carl's eyes. Well, at least I appear to be home free with this cop.

Debbie has dragged Carl over to look at the sketch that Justin drew, and starts talking animatedly about who knows what.

Justin makes his way over to Brian's office area, and notices all of the framed photgraphs sitting on the desk. He picks one up and looks at it and smiles. It has Brian, Michael, Ben, Debbie and Carl all standing in front of a cabin somewhere, holding a piece of paper up for the camera and looking very happy.

Brian walks up behind Justin, leans his chest into Justin's back, and reaches an arm over Justin's shoulder, resting his arm there, to also hold the photograph.

"Ah, this is a great place.'

"Where is it?"

"Maine," Brian says, as Justin quizically half cocks his head, trying to get a side glance of Brian's face.

"What the hell is Mr. Armani doing in Maine? Isn't it all woods and water up there?"

"Oh, contrare, my gorgeous one. Have you not heard of the Mecca known as Freeport? Home of outlet stores for Ralph Lauren, Cole Haan shoes, not to mention L.L. Bean? And now I know you must be gay, you know your labels. I, of course, have no desire to buy anything from L.L. Bean, but Mikey and the Professor have a need to buy their clothes there. We were driving around the surrounding countryside when we came across this cabin for sale, and just couldn't resist pooling our resources and buying it. That piece of paper is the deed. It's all ours, free and clear. Maybe one day we can go there."

Brian hopes that this offhand invitation is the thing that lets Justin know that he's a bit interested, but the kid doesn't seem to bite. All Justin can think is that will be a cold day in hell, before I'm allowed to leave this city with you. 

After a couple of hours had gone by, and Justin had been engaged in conversation with everyone in the room, Ted and Emmett included, Justin glances at his watch, seeing that it's going on 9:30. I've got to get out of here soon. What kind of excuse can I make?

As Justin walks up to Brian, he touches him on the arm to get his attention. "I've had a really great time, Brian, but I need to get going. I've got an early call tomorrow. Can't have bags under my eyes, you know?"

After saying goodnight to everyone, Brian walks Justin to the door. Brian knows what he wants to do right now and throws caution to the wind. He's wanted kiss those lips since the first time he saw them, and damn if he wasn't going to get his way.

"Thanks for my gift. I really like it. It will hang in a place of honor in my home; a place where I can always look at myself, " he smirks.

Justin smiles at this, and that's when Brian takes his chance. He leans down and firmly plants his lips on Justin's. He has been desiring to do just this for the last two days. To his surprise, Justin returns the kiss and then backs off, opening the door and blushing deeply and telling Brian later.

Once the door is closed, Justin grabs the bottle of scotch from the cabinet and heads upstairs.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin's hand rests on the key before he turns it in the lock, saying a silent prayer. Please let him not be here. He's going to ask too many questions. Please let him be spending time with his family for a change.

As Justin walks in, the loft is dark. As he breaths a sigh of relief, the light in the living room area clicks on and Robert is sitting in the chair by the coffee table, holding an empty bottle of scotch.

"Welcome home," Robert says.

"You frightened the fuck out of me."

"It's quarter to fucking 10:00. Where the fuck have you been?"

"Down to the store getting your fucking scotch," as he shows Robert the new scotch bottle.

Justin leans up against the beam as Robert gets up and walks over to him. As Robert puts his arm on the beam above Justin's head, he says, "Don't fuck with me."

"What?"

"Don't fuck with me ."

At this, Justin reaches his hand up and gently rubs the side of Robert's face.

"I've been calling here all fucking evening."

"I went for a walk. What's your problem?"

Robert stares into Justin's eyes, and then he reaches down and grabs Justin by the balls, squeezing and lifting him up until he has to stand on his toes, groaning in pain.

"We weren't working, were we? Doing a bit of business on the side?"

At this point Justin is in so much pain that all he can do is shake his head.

"I'll have to cut this off if you've been sharing it with some other fag."

"There's no one else, and you fucking know that," Justin manages to get out.

Robert continues to stare into Justin's eyes, seeing the truth there. His boy hasn't been with anyone else. 

Justin is still squirming under Robert's grip, when the buzzer sounds. As Robert goes to answer the door, Justin leans against the beam trying to collect himself.

Robert opens the door, and standing there is Jim Stockwell.

"Jim, good to see you. I just got here myself. Do you want something to drink?"

I'll have a vodka tonic, no lemon or ice."

Robert looks to Justin, who goes into the kitchen to make the drink.

"How's the family, Jim?"

"Fine."

Both men settle onto the sectional, making themselves comfortable. Justin brings a drink over for both men, and puts them on the coffee table. Robert looks up at Justin and asks Jim, "Are we partaking tonight?"

"It would be rude not to," says Jim.

Justin, knowing exactly what this means, puts his game face on. He starts down the hall, unzipping his jacket, with Stockwell following close behind. Robert sits on the sectional getting his lines of coke ready and smoking a cigarette.

As Justin shuts the bedroom doors, Stockwell comes up behind him and rips open his shirt, licking along the back of his neck. Justin turns around and starts to unbutton Stockwell's shirt, and then starts on his belt and his pants. Stockwell throws Justin down on the bed and starts to pull Justin's pants down. He takes Justin's head in his hands and brings it to his cock and forces it in Justin's mouth. God, this kid is good. Never had a blow job as good as this, even from a woman, Jim thinks. Before it's too late, he pulls out of Justin's mouth and puts on a condom and throws Justin face down onto the bed. He grabs Justin's hips and pushes into the nice tight ass that's in front of him. Justin grunts at the intrusion, not having been prepared. You would think I would expect this by now, Justin wonders.

After having had his pleasures with the kid, Stockwell walks out of the bedroom, leaving Justin there trying to compose himself. All he can do is sit on the edge of the bed and try to bring his mind back to the present. Having heard the bedroom door slam, Justin walks over to a cupboard, opens it, rewinds a bit of tape and views it just to make sure it was taping. Ah, another classic for the collection. He looks up at his collection of tapes. Two for Stockwell. This will make three.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim sits back down on the sectional across from Robert. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a bundle wrapped in plastic and packing tape.

"We had a good bust a while back. Here it is," as he hands over the package to Robert.

Robert smiles. "Fuck me. This will keep a few people bouncing off the ceiling."

"Robert, this has got to be the last time. All of the procedures are changing. They're starting to do random checks on the drugs they're sending to the incinerator. I'm getting a bad feeling about all of this."

"You didn't join the police force without knowing there would be risks."

"If they find out they're burning baking soda instead of cocaine, I'm fucked. We had a good run. Let's find another scam."

"I'll do a deal with you. One more time, and then we'll call it a day."

Jim rubbed his head and nodded.

"That's the spirit, Jim. You only get out of life what you put in it. Want another drink?"

"No, I'm driving."

Robert shows Jim to the door. "Look, I'll see you next month. Maybe we'll do lunch."

Robert turns around and walks back over to the sectional to grab the phone. "Justin, come here."

Justin walks out of the bedroom after having put jeans and a sweatshirt on. He leans up against the beam as Robert says into the phone, "Charlie, come and get me. I'm ready."

Robert walks over to the beam where Justin is leaning, and reaches out to run his finger down the side of his face.

"Justin, have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

Justin pauses. "Lots of times."

Justin reaches out to Robert and straigthens his tie as Robert runs his hand up and down Justin's arm.

"How about lunch in New York on Monday," Robert asks. "Find out the times of the planes and make the arrangements. I will be out of town until late Sunday night. We can get together then, okay?"

"Okay."

Robert leans into Justin and softly kisses his lips, running his hand through his soft hair. 

The buzzer sounds from downstairs, indicating the arrival of Charlie. As Robert closes the door behind him, all Justin can feel is freedom. All right, it's not true freedom, but four days without Robert around will be as close to freedom as he can come. Of course, he will be watched, so he still has to be careful, but he still feels a sense of elation. Justin lays down on the sectional, curls up into a ball, and lets a smile spread across his face.


	5. Kept

Just a reminder that this story's plot is based on the British movie Endgame.  
Thank you to all of my gals for their encouragement: Mary, Cara, Tay and Sid

* * *

Justin was so elated and felt so free after Robert's news that he would be out of town for four days, that he slept like the dead through the night. This was the first time he had actually fallen asleep and stayed that way. The nightmare only started during the mid-morning hours. He could see his sister and himself standing at the window, watching outside as their mother is being led away in handcuffs. He can hear himself pounding on the window and shouting mommy, mommy. Justin wakes with a start, still hearing the pounding, realizing that someone was at the front door making one hell of a racket.

Justin stumbles to the front door, still in his jeans and sweatshirt from the night before. He opens the door to see Brian standing there, and gets a goofy grin on his still sleep-wrinkled face.

All Brian can think is when does this kid ever look bad? My God, how I want to take him into the bedroom right now, but I can't. I have to go to Chicago for the Brown Athletics account.

"So, Sunshine, I see we've had our beauty sleep. Don't you think it's about time you get up?"

Just tries to stifle his yawn, but through it asks, "What the hell time is it, anyway?"

"Well, Sleeping Beauty, you have managed to make it to 11:00. I certainly hope you don't have any appointments you should have made earlier, because you've certainly missed them."

"No. I have nothing booked for four days. I was hoping I could reciprocate and have you over for dinner tonight."

Brian just stares at Justin and wishes it could happen.

"Not tonight, Justin. I'm on my way to the airport," as Brian gestures towards his carry-on bag.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I should be back on Saturday, Sunday at the latest. I can't miss the family dinner at Deb's. She'd serve my balls with her spaghetti. And speaking of Deb's Sunday dinners, she wanted me to tell you she expects to see you there. This is not a polite invitation, it is a summons. If you don't show, she'll track you down and you will live to regret it, believe me."

"That should be fine," Justin responds. "By the way, what's with all of this Sunshine shit?"

"Debbie believes with that lovely blonde hair and that brilliant smile, you are her little ray of sunhine. I tend to agree with her," Brian says with a smile. "I just wanted to let you know I'll be gone so you could keep an eye on the place for me, pick up the paper."

"Sure. No problem. I'm just disappointed with me having these days off, you won't be here so we could get to know one another a little better."

With that, Brian grabs Justin around the waist and pulls him into a deep kiss. Justin snakes his hand around Brian's neck and pulls him in deeper. Damn, his lips are so soft, Brian thinks. I could lose myself in those lips. Oh, shit, instant wood. Wonderful.

As the kiss deepens, Justin can feel Brian harden against his thigh. I'll have to do something about that, Justin thinks.

"What time does your plane leave?"

Wondering if the kid is thinking what Brian hopes he's thinking, he looks at his watch and says, "I can spare 15 minutes."

With that, Justin runs his hands down Brian's shirt and stops at his belt buckle. He undoes his buckle, all the while looking Brian in the eye. He never breaks eye contact. Ever so slowly he unzips the zipper and reaches in for Brian's hard cock. 

"Oh, my, look what I found, Brian."

Justin lowers himself onto his knees and slowly slides his tongue down the shaft, taking in Brian's balls one by one. Knowing Brian has a time limit here, Justin decides to forego too much preparation and deep throats Brian in one motion. Brian moans in pleasure. Shit, this boy is talented. He's taking it all. Before Brian knows it, and much to his dismay, he shoots into Justin's mouth, Justin taking it all in. As Justin finishes licking Brian clean, he carefully makes Brian presentable and stands in front of him and pulls him in to a deep kiss. Brian can taste himself on Justin's tongue. 

"Now you should be okay for that plane ride, not sporting any wood, big boy."

"My, my, aren't we the talented little twink," Brian muses.

"Well, I'm only being neighborly."

"Listen, I've got to catch that flight. I'll check in with you when I get back. Wish me luck. If I land this account, it will mean a big bonus."

"Good luck, Brian. See you when you get back."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Justin has gotten himself together it is already late afternoon. As he looks out the window, he can see Charlie in the Mercedes parked on the corner. Yeah, just like I thought; being watched. Robert won't trust me to be alone while he's gone. Charlie will report every move I make.

As it turns into early evening, Justin can feel the walls closing in on him. I have to get out of here. He takes a glance out the window and sees that Charlie has never left his parking spot. Doesn't this guy ever have to take a leak?

Justin forms a plan of attack in his brain. He leaves the TV on, a couple of lights, and makes his way out of the loft, slipping out the back utility door. He carefully makes his way down the alley and ends up on the street behind the Mercedes and an ever-vigilant Charlie. Slowly going down the street, he keeps to the shadows to not attract any attention. Where exactly do I think I'm going? At that moment his stomach starts to growl and a destination comes to mind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Justin walks into the diner, he can hear the ever-present chatter of Debbie. He actually finds it comforting. As soon as Debbie sees Justin, the air is filled with "Oh, shit, it's Sunshine." Justin ducks his head as every face in the diner turns in his direction.

"Hi, Debbie."

"Well, hey, honey. I didn't expect to see you again so soon. What can I get you?"

"Well, I was thinking some dinner."

At that moment Justin sees Michael sitting with his boyfriend Ben in the booth that Debbie had been hovering over. Justin starts to head in the direction of the counter, when Ben waves Justin over to sit with them, garnering a glare from Michael. This was their private time together, and now Ben was inviting over the twink who lived upstairs from Brian; although he had to admit the kid had good taste in that he likes comic book art.

"So, Justin," Ben said, "did you have a good time last night?"

"Sure did. That's a nice group of friends you have."

After having placed his order with Debbie, engaging in some small-talk with Ben and Michael, and then eating his dinner, Michael decides to broach a subject with Justin that had been running through his head since last night after seeing Justin's artwork.

"Justin, I was wondering if I could talk to you about a possible business venture," Michael states.

"What do you have in mind?" 

"Well, the idea for a new comic book hero has been running through my head. I haven't really had any idea who could do the artwork, but after seeing your picture last night I thought I would talk to you about it. It's a gay superhero."

"That really sounds interesting -- not to mention original -- Michael; but i've never done comic book art. There's a whole other dimension to that kind of art. I don't know if I would do it justice."

"Look, let's get out of here. We'll go by the store and I'll give you some stuff so you can look it over and see how the art is done and get some ideas."

"It really sounds like a challenge. I would like to give it a try."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After getting the comic books from Michael, Justin makes his way back to the loft. Justin sees no sign of Charlie, but still doesn't feel safe walking in the front door. He sneaks down the alley the way he came out and makes his way back to the loft.

The next couple of days Justin devotes himself to looking at the comic books that Michael has given him and practicing many different styles. He gets so engrossed in it all, it is a wonder he remembers to eat anything. Before he knows it, he has filled one sketch book and has started on a second. Comic books and sketch books are spread over the kitchen breakfast bar. The one picture that he can never seem to get enough of drawing, though, is Brian. This man has really gotten into my head. Would I ever be able to tell him about my situation, confide in him? Would he understand why I stayed? Would he understand why I even went with Robert in the first place? Jesus, what would he think of my little video collection? 

Sunday finally rolls around and all Justin can think about is seeing Brian again. He didn't come home Saturday like he was hoping he would, but Brian had promised he would be home by Sunday. Apparently the wrath of Debbie was a big incentive to not miss the Sunday dinners. The only thing Justin couldn't figure out was how he was going to get out of the building without Charlie seeing him. Everyday, when he looked out the window, there sat Charlie on the corner in the car, keeping his watch over Robert's property.

It's about 1:00 in the afternoon when Brian finally calls. He has just arrived at the airport and has to swing by the office, get home and then freshen up. He tells Justin to be ready to roll by 5:00. 

Justin can't stop pacing around the loft. His mind is trying to figure some way to either get out of the dinner or get out of the building. He really wants to go, but what excuse can he make to get Brian to pick him up in the back alley. It's going on 4:30, and Justin takes another look out the window. No Charlie. What the fuck? Maybe he finally had to take a leak. Maybe Robert's wife needs him for something. Right now Justin doesn't really care. All he knows, he's going to the dinner, and he's going to have a good time; and I'm leaving by the front door, damn it.

Brian knocks on the door promptly at 5:00, just as Justin is gathering his things together into his backpack. He has a few sketches to show to Michael, but leaves behind the book that has the pictures he has done of Brian. Justin has also gone into Robert's private stock of wine and picked out a very nice bottle; at least he hopes so. I know nothing about wine, he thinks, but this looks nice. Geez, if it's packed in its own crate with straw around it, it's got to be good, right?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Justin walks into Debbie's house, followed by Brian, he is overwhelmed by the smells, the people, and just the wonderful memories that get conjured up in his mind's eye. This is what a home is. He had forgotten just how good that felt. He just stands there for a moment, taking it all in, when Brian's hand lands on his lower back and lightly pushes him into the room. Don't rush me, Brian. I'm savoring here. Justin is almost on the verge of tears.

"Hey there, Sunshine," Debbie shreaks.

"Hi, Debbie. I brought this. I hope it's all right. I really don't know much about wine."

"Holy shit, Justin. Modeling must pay good. This is some vintage stuff. I'll say this is all right," Brian exclaims.

"Well, dinner is ready. Brian, pop the cork on that 'vintage stuff' as you call it."

Brian's remarks start to worry Justin. He knew the botttle was probably good, but not that good. He just hopes Robert won't miss it from his private stock.

After having enjoyed a fine meal and good company, everyone settles in the living room. Justin brings out his backpack and opens it, bringing out his sketch book.

"Michael, I've done some preliminary things. I thought you might like to take a look at some of them," Justin says as he hands over his sketch book to Michael.

"Wow, Justin, these are great. I can't believe you came up with some of this stuff in the last two days."

"When I get inspired, I like to work while the iron is hot, so to speak."

Brian stands and looks over Michael's shoulder, a big grin spreading over his face.

"Justin," Brian starts, "does this superhero of yours resemble anyone we all know and love?"

At that comment Justin turns a bright shade of red. He had hoped no one would notice the resemblance.

"Oh, my, God, Brian, that's you," Debbie shouts.

Everyone has a good laugh as Justin buries his face in his hands. He thought he was being made fun of, but soon realized that everyone is very impressed with his renditions and starts to relax.

The rest of the evening finds Justin and Michael so engrossed in the talk of the comic book that Brian actually starts to get annoyed. Ben notices this and walks into the kitchen to talk with Brian.

"You know, Brian, the creative process can be quite exciting. Look at those two. Frankly, I don't think Michael has ever looked sexier than right now while he and Justin are collaborating."

"I know they're excited. I was just hoping I would have a little more time to spend with Justin."

"Get used to it if thing takes off. They're going to be spending a lot of time together."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Brian pulls up in front of the loft, Justin notices right away that Charlie is parked by the front door. Charlie only parks there when Robert is here. God, please don't let him be back. I've got to get upstairs quick. I hope Brian won't suspect anything, Justin thinks.

Charlie sees Justin getting out of the Jeep with another man. This is going to be an interesting night. The boy is definitely going to get a licking from Robert. When did he leave, anyway? Jesus, would Robert have a few choice words -- or worse yet, a few choice fists -- for Charlie when he found out Justin had given him the slip? Charlie watches as Justin walks into the building, nervously looking over his shoulder at Charlie.

As they climb into the elevator, Brian wraps his arms around Justin from behind and pulls him into an embrace, resting his chin on Justin's shoulder. Brian can feel Justin tense up, knows something is slightly off kilter, but decides to ignore it for now. 

"So, Justin, do you want to come to my place for a bit of that get-to-know-each-other time?"

"I can't think of anything I'd love to do more, Brian, but I really have to get upstairs. I'm expecting a call from my agent, and I need to get back to him tonight. Maybe after that I can come down, but don't count on it." 

Justin hoped and prayed that this lame explanation would have the effect he wanted. Brian took it as a brush-off and just shrugged his shoulders. Hey, if the kid was going to be that fickle, fuck him.

"Whatever you say, Sunshine," Brian said as he got off on his floor and turned his back.

As Justin puts his key in the door, he knows Robert is there. For one thing, the door is not locked. For another, he can hear the stereo softly playing. He knows he didn't leave the stereo on. Suck it up, Justin; meet this head-on. 

When Robert got back from his trip early, the last thing he expected to find when he got to the loft was an empty loft. He shouted for Justin a few times, but no answer. Then he noticed the sketch book, the comic books, and the empty wine crate. What the hell does this boy think he's up to? As he scanned the pictures in the sketch book, he realizes that he's going to have to show Justin, again, just who be belongs to. Just who the fuck does he think he is? His ass is mine. 

Justin tries to put on a nonchalant facade, make Robert think nothing has been going on. As he walks in, he can see Robert sitting at the breakfast bar nursing a scotch, the bottle being half empty at this point. Not good, Justin thinks to himself. He also notices that Robert has opened one of his sketch books and it is open to a picture of Brian; the comic books are in a pile next to the sketch book; and Robert is fingering the straw that the wine bottle was packed in.

"You should have told me, Justin."

"Told you what?"

"That you're a connoisseur of fine wine."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"That was vintage wine. Where did you take it?"

"I'm sorry," Justin says as he leans against the beam, crossing his arms. "I didn't realize it was an expensive one"

"That's all right," Robert says rubbing his finger against his chin. "It's only grapes."

The softness in Robert's voice and calmness of his demeanor was beginning to worry Justin.

"So where did you go," Robert whispers.

"The new downstairs neighbor invited me to a family dinner. I went there with him."

"Is it the same 'him' who you've drawn so nicely in your sketch book? What does the neighbor think of having such a nice piece of ass living upstairs? Does he know you're a whore? Does he know that you're mine?"

Justin breathes in a heavy sigh and pushes away from the beam. "I'm not going to fight. I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

As Justin walks into the bedroom, Robert takes another drink of scotch and follows.

"I love watching you take your clothes off," Robert says.

Justin can only turn his back as he continues to unbutton his shirt and slide it off his body.

Robert walks up behind Justin and rubs his hands up and down his thighs and over his firm butt, unbuttoning and unzipping Justin's pants as he lets his hands wander over Justin's body. "Here, let me help you."

"Baby, I just want to get to bed. I'm tired."

"You're Robert's, and you best remember that now," Robert whispers in Justin's ear as he starts to kiss the back of Justin's neck and rub his hands on Justin's chest.

"I know, baby. Just not tonight. I'm tired. Just let me go, please."

"I told you I would never let you go."

With that last statement, Robert takes both of Justin's wrists in his hands and pulls them behind his back. Reaching behind him, Robert pulls open a dresser drawer, pulling out a length of rope and tying Justin's hands behind him.

"Please, no. Just one night, please. Just let me be one night."

"No. I need you. I need for you to know that you're Robert's."

As Robert utters those last words, he pushes Justin down onto the side of the bed, pulling his pants down.

"No, please, don't."

"I need you, baby. Now just shut the fuck up."

"No, I don't want to. Just leave me alone for one night."

"Shut the fuck up I said."

Justin's mind is screaming no, no, no when he feels Robert push into him. As he starts to scream, all Robert keeps saying is shut up, shut up. The more he struggles, the tighter the rope becomes and starts to bite into Justin's skin. He can feel the blood start to trickle down his wrists. I will not take this anymore, is the only thing that keeps going through Justin's mind.

With all of his effort, Justin throws his head back, knocking Robert in the chin. The force of the blow sends Robert falling backwards, striking his forehead on the dresser. As Justin stands up, he relaxes his arms to loosen the rope and pulls up his pants.

All Justin can do is stand there and look at Robert on the floor. He isn't breathing, is the first thought that goes through his head. His eyes are open. Is he dead? To be sure, Justin kicks at the outstretched arm of Robert. There is no movement, no chest moving up and down, and definitely no blinking. Something snaps in Justin's mind, and he takes his foot and kicks Robert's body in the midsection. That felt good, he thinks. Before he knows it, he's kicking and stomping Robert's dead body. Without realizing it, as he kicks and stomps at Robert's body, blood starts to spray over Justn's torso and face. He finally stops when he's gasping for breath after all of the exertion. What have I done? 

Justin sits on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, rocking slowly back and forth. As he sees the pool of blood move closer to his feet, he keeps inching back trying to put as much space as he can between himself and the blood. The only thought that keeps going through his mind is what do I do now? What the fuck do I do?


	6. Kept

Sorry this is chapter is short. I've got to dig out from the blizzard up here in Maine.

* * *

Justin doesn't remember how he ended up in the chair in the living room. He doesn't remember putting a shirt on. He doesn't remember smoking the first cigarette, much less the second, which after it burned him woke him up out of his stupor. He glances into the bedroom to make sure it hadn't been a dream. No, there was Robert's body with the pool of blood still around it. What do I do? The only thought that kept coming to his mind was Brian. Hell, Brian is the only person he knows who isn't associated with Robert's 'business.'

Justin slowly gets up and starts to go downstairs. He feels like he's in a waking dream; like nothing can be real at this point. After pounding on Brian's door numerous times, Brian finally opens his door with a very surprised look on his face.

"What the fuck do you want, Justin? Do you realize what time it is? For God's sake, it's 2:00 in the morning."

Brian stares at Justin, seeing no comprehension in his eyes. It's like the kid is sleep walking. Hell, maybe he is. Brian waves his hand in front of Justin's eyes to see if he can get a response. Justin just stares straight ahead with that 100-mile stare that some guys get who have been in combat; but he does take Brian's hand to stop him.

"Come upstairs, please, Brian. I need some help."

"What's up?"

But Brian doesn't get a response as he sees one lone tear run down Justin's face. Then he notices something on Justin's face and reaches out to touch it. In his just-awakened state he's not quite sure what it is, but, damn, that looks an awful lot like blood.

Justin just turns and slowly walks back up the stairs, hoping that Brian is following him. Now Brian is starting to get worried. What the hell has the kid gotten himself into?

Brian follows Justin into the loft and sees that he's headed straight back to the bedroom. Justin just continues to walk, stopping and resting his back against the far wall. Brian just watches him, and then looks across the room. He sees the blood first, and then the body.

"Jesus H. Christ. Who is he? Justin? Who is he, Justin?"

At this question, Justin can feel himself start to slide down the wall as the tears start to flow and his body starts to shake. He looks at Brian with glassy eyes and doesn't quite know what to say.

"He's my trick," he finally gets out. "Or would call him my pimp? Or maybe my owner would be a better word."

Brian can only stand there speechless.

"That's got you speechless, doesn't it? I'm a whore, I'm trash."

"What?"

"I'm not a model."

Brian can only stand there and try to take this all in. Should I pinch myself? Am I having some sort of perverse nightmare?

"It was an accident," Justin manages to choke out between sobs.

Justin pauses and then actually looks Brian in the eye to see what his reaction will be. All Brian can do at this point is look down at the body and wonder how all of this blood can come from an accident.

"Call the police," Brian says affirmatively.

At this comment Justin covers his mouth and starts to laugh hysterically.

"What's so fucking funny, Justin? It's a dead body for fuck's sake."

Justin covers his face with his hands and tries to compose himself. How can he make Brian understand that he can't call the police? He'll have to tell him everything.

"Please, just help me get away," Justin whispers.

"Justin, am I not speaking fucking English here? It's a dead body. We have to call the police and work all of this out."

"Brian, I can't call the police."

"Why the hell not? Explain this to me," Brian says, walking over to Justin and kneeling down in front of him, grabbing his hands in his.

"Because some of the police force is on his payroll," Justin explains, pointing to Robert's body. "Don't you see, Brian, if you call the police, I'll be dead. Then there's Charlie sitting downstairs in the Mercedes. Did you notice him when we came in earlier? He's Robert's driver. He'll take great pleasure in killing me, but first he will have some fun."

At that last statement, Brian actually cringes. He can only imagine what kind of fun men have been having with this kid. An idea was starting to form in Brian's mind where he could take Justin to be safe until things could be straightened out. He definitely needs to talk to Carl, but tonight was definitely not the night for that. First he needed to get Justin the hell out of here and away from whoever was downstairs.

"All right, Justin, I've got an idea. Are you listening to me? I'm going to go downstairs and pack a few things. You do the same up here. I want you to get yourself cleaned up. You've got some blood on your face. Come down when you're done. Don't bring much, but make sure it's cold-weather gear."

Brian takes Justin by the shoulders and shakes him a bit to make sure he's comprehending all that he is saying to him. At this point he's not quite sure because he thinks the kid has gone into shock. Slowly Justin makes eye contact with Brian and nods his head.

"Meet me downstairs in about 10 minutes at the latest. We'll be ready to move then."

Again, Justin just nods his head. As Brian stands up and heads out of the loft, Justin also rises and grabs a small duffle bag and his backpack, packing the items that Brian has suggested. Justin opens the cupboard that contains all of his videos and selects only three. These should be the most important in this situation, he thinks to himself.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Brian walks into his loft the only thought that keeps going through his still sleep-muddled mind is what the hell do you think you're doing? Why are you getting involved in all of this shit? You are so fucked right now, Brian Kinney. I've got to call someone and let them know a little of what's going on. Who do I call?

"Hey, Mikey. Rise and shine, morning glory."

"Brian, do you realize it's after 2:00 in the morning? Are you high on something?

"No, Mikey, I'm all right. Something has gone down with Justin, and I'm going to be out of town for a few days."

"I knew it. I knew that twink was trouble. I tried to like him, Brian; I did. What the hell is happening?"

"Mikey, it's best if you don't know right now, that way you have nothing to tell."

"Can you tell me where you're going?"

"No, I can't, Michael. It's better if you don't know. Like I said, you can't tell the police what you don't know."

"The police? Are you shitting me? Ben and I are coming over right now."

No, Mikey, you and Ben stay put. Plus I won't be here when you get here. You can do one thing for me, though. In about 30 minutes call the police to come to my building, Justin's loft. It's the one on the top floor. Try to make it an anonymous call, Mikey, so they don't start questioning you. Please just trust me on this and do it. I'll contact you in a few days and fill you in on what's going on, I promise. Now please don't worry, I'll be fine. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

Before Michael can respond, Brian has hung up and phone. He hears a knock on the door and knows that Justin must be ready. Brian opens and door and sees Justin standing there, tears still coming down his face. Ah, shit, kid. Brian can't seem to resist him, and pulls Justin into a strong hug. It starts to worry Brian when Justin doesn't respond and just stands there with a totally bland affect.

"Okay, Justin, let's get out of here before some cops show up."

"I think Charlie is still sitting downstairs in the car."

"Shit, I forgot about him. Here, take my bag with your stuff and wait in the alley. I'll get the Jeep and drive around and pick you up."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian quietly opens the front door of the building, not letting it slam closed. As he slowly walks down the steps, he glances into the Mercedes, seeing that the driver has fallen asleep. 

Brian gets into the Jeep, not closing the door all the way so it doesn't make any noise, and drives it around through the alley, picking Justin up.

"Brian, I'm sorry to get you involved in all of this. I didn't know who else to go to."

"Just shut up for now, Justin. I've been fucked before, but never like this. I need to think and not talk to you right now."

As his words are spoken, Brian can see Justin sink more into the door of the Jeep. God, the kid looks like a beat puppy right now. What the hell has been done to him? Hell, has it been years? You and me, kid, need to have a talk when we get to where we're going.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie wakes up with a start, looking at his watch. Jesus, it's 4:00 in the morning. Robert has never stayed overnight with the kid. I wonder if he's beaten the shit out of him. Charlie tries the loft phone and there is no answer. He then tries Robert's private line, and still no answer. Now he's starting to get worried and decides to head into the building.

After reaching the top floor, Charlie can see the loft door has been left open. Not a good sign, Charlie, old boy. He slowly walks in and calls Robert's name. As he heads to the bedroom, he can see a shape on the floor. Oh, Jesus, if he beat the kid to death, he's going to have to do the clean-up and get rid of the body.

As Charlie walks closer, he can see that it's not Justin lying there, but Robert.

"Holy shit, Robert. It looks like the kid finally got one in on you, you sick mother fucker."

Charlie opens his cell phone and dials a number. "Hey, Stockwell, we've got a problem."


	7. Kept

Plot idea from the British movie Endgame. I have some rush transcripts to get out, so the next chapter will not be up so quickly. Sorry about that, Seve.

* * *

After Charlie's conversation with Stockwell, he decided to go down and wait for him in the car. The body in the loft was starting to give him the creeps. He had seen more gruesome sights in his life, but this was his boss.

Charlie was surprised that such a short time passed. Stockwell said he was going to be at least an hour, but a police cruiser was pulling up in front of the building. Then it hit him that this has nothing to do with Stockwell, and he had better just lay low for a bit and see how this is going to play out.

The two police officers gained access to the building and headed to the top floor as they had been instructed. When they saw what met them there, they got on the radio immediately to call in Homicide. Stockwell had a police scanner in his car and heard this news immediately. Who the fuck called in reinforcements? Shit, was he going to have to cover his ass? No use in hurrying there now. Don't want the Homicide boys to think he has anything to do with this, so I'll just show up as a casual observer.

Charlie couldn't believe all of the cars that were starting to show up on the scene. Where in the hell is Stockwell? Shit, someone called the cops and now some things might come out. He decided to just hunker down and see where everything went with this little investigation. Did Robert have any cops from Homicide on his payroll? He was racking his brains trying to figure out what angle he could play with the cops that were there.

After two hours Stockwell decided to show up, figuring Homicide and the crime scene people would be there by now. As he parked his car and walked along the sidewalk, he saw Charlie sitting in the car. Jim leans in through the window and whispers to Charlie, "What the fuck are you still doing here? Don't you think this looks a little suspicious with you just sitting here this whole time?"

"Well, frankly, Jim, nobody seems to be paying me any mind whatsoever. I think your Homicide guys need some more investigative training. Did you call the fuck-ups?"

"Not me. I'm going to try to get to the bottom of it, though."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Jim walks into the bedroom, he can't believe what he is seeing on the television that is set up in there. The guys from Homicide are viewing some select gay porn, it looks like. Detective Roberts eyes Jim and says, "Whoever lives here has quite the collection, don't you think? Look at the names on these videos. We've go one Federal judge, one State judge, about four city council members, and various other state appointment heads. Whoever this kids is," pointing to Justin in the videos, "he seems to have quite the collection. Looks like he was storing these away for a rainy day."

Stockwell can't believe his eyes. There is an open cupboard filled with row upon row of videocassettes, and sees that there is a gap on one of the shelves. Quickly scanning the names, he sees that none of them has his name on them. Shit, that gap. Are those videos with him on them? Did the kid have them?

"Seems we have some missing," Roberts points out to Stockwell. "I wonder who is on those? It certainly would be interesting to find out. Maybe whoever it is killed this guy, and did away with the blonde."

"It looks like you have your hands full. I'm going to check in for my shift at the stationhouse."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Jim walks back to Charlie, still sitting in the car, he can't believe that little shit was taping all of his encounters. He has tapes of me, that little son of a bitch. I'm going to cut off his balls and then skin him alive.

"Charlie, we have a problem. That little whore was taping all of the times that Robert brought people here to have a little fun, including me. The tapes I'm on appear to be missing. We've got to find the shit, and find him soon. Do you have any ideas?"

"Not a one. I know Robert came here last night and Justin wasn't here. He walked in later in the evening with some guy. I think I've seen him before. I think he might live in the building."

"Do you have a name?"

"No, I don't. But he looked to have a thing for the kid. Maybe he got him the hell out of here. Is there anyone missing from the building who should be here?"

"I don't know, but I intend to damn well find out. I'll see what kind of information I can scrounge up, and I'll be in touch."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun is starting to come up and is hitting Brian right in the eyes, as he is heading east along the Massachusetts Turnpike. Justin fell into a restless sleep soon after leaving the city. The kid looks exhausted, even as he's sleeping. Brian rubs his eyes and tries to formulate in his mind what the hell he's going to do. He knows he has to get Carl involved. Carl definitely would not be a cop on this asshole's payroll. He had no worries there.

Brian knows he can make where they're headed in one day, but he doesn't want to get there after dark, especially since the road will probably be snow covered. When I get a little closer to Boston, I'll get us a room, we can both have a decent clean-up, and then I can finally get some sleep. 

Just as Brian is thinking all of these thoughts, Justin startles awake screaming, "No, leave me alone." It scares the shit out of Brian, and he swerves in the road. Shit, maybe we should stop now so I can get some sleep, he thinks.

"Justin, are you okay? Are you awake?"

Justin sleepily rubs his eyes and just looks out the passenger-side window.

"Yeah, I'm just fine. I feel great for someone who just killed somebody about 10 hours ago. Just terrific. So you're talking to me now?"

"Yeah, a bit. I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to play this. You know we'll have to call the cops eventually, don't you? Remember Carl who you met at my party the other night? He's a good guy. I really think you can trust him. We'll get settled where we're going, and then we'll give him a call and see what's going on in the Pitts with your boyfriend."

"You're a shit, you know that? He wasn't my boyfriend. A boyfriend wouldn't do to me half of the shit that he did."

"Whatever. Before we left I called Mikey and told him to give us 30 minutes and then call the cops in."

"You did what? Are you fucking nuts?"

"What's done is done. They're probably investigating as we speak. Like I said, we'll get settled in, and then we'll call Carl."

"Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Right now we're in Massachusetts."

"And where are we going?"

"Remember that photo I showed you with me, Deb, Mikey, Ben and Carl? We're headed to Maine to the cabin. It's the only place I could think of. We could make it there today, but it would be dark when we get there. I don't want to maneuver those roads in the dark. We're going to stay the night once we get closer to Boston, get some decent rest."

As Brian looks over to Justin to see if any of this is registering, he just sees Justin sink lower in the seat and continuing to stare out of the side window.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian finally decides that he can't stay awake any longer and decides to find a hotel room in Methuen, just north of Boston.  
He and Justin walk into the room and all Brian can do is flop on the bed with a sigh of relief. Is feels so damn good to be out of that Jeep. Justin just sits on the edge of his bed staring off into space. 

"Come on, Justin. Let's get you cleaned up. You've still got a smudge of blood on your neck." Brian stands Justin up and pulls off his sweatshirt. The sight that greets him is not a comforting one. He sees the old bruise along his ribs, the abrasions on both of Justin's wrists that had bled at one point, and, turning Justin around, he sees the two bruises on his back that have started to turn a sickening shade of yellow-brown.

"Did he do this to you?"

Justin looks at Brian, not really comprehending that he's standing there with a bare upper torso. When did this happen? I must have zoned out again, Justin thinks.

"This one," pointing to his ribs, "was courtesy of someone else."

"What happened to your wrists? Those look fairly fresh."

"Robert has -- had a rope that he liked to use on me. It was a special weave. The more you struggled, the tighter it became, until your arms would finally just go numb. That's what he had on me last night. I didn't mean to hurt him, Brian. It was an accident. I just pushed him, and he fell and hit his head."

Brian was starting to get a little concerned. Whenever Justin was talking about his experiences up in that hell-hole of a loft he called home for who knew how long, he had such a distance in his voice, as if it had all happened to someone else.

"Justin, how long were you there in the loft?"

"Two years," he said in a distant voice.

"Did other guys pay to fuck you?"

At that Justin gives a choked laugh. "What makes you think I got paid to do anything? I was Robert's property to do with what he liked, give me to whoever he liked. That loft was my cage."

Brian slowly stands Justin up and walks him over to the sink and takes a washcloth and warm water and soap and gently starts to clean his upper body and wrists, trying to wash away the blood. Justin flinches at first at the touch, but then starts to relax. He closes his eyes and tries to let go of some of the memories that are flashing like a slide show through his mind of his two years in the loft, and slowly the tears come again. Soon Justin is sobbing, and as Brian wipes him dry, all he can do is turn Justin around and hold him in a comforfting hug, trying to soothe him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian was so exhausted that he slept through the afternoon and most of the night until Justin's nightmare woke him up.  
He looked over at the clock between the beds and saw that it was 4:00 a.m. 

As he glances over at Justin, he can see him sitting up in bed and crying, "No, mommy, please don't hurt daddy."

What the fuck is this all about? Jesus, what kind of issues does this kid have going on in that head of his? Brian crawls out of his bed and lays beside Justin, wrapping him in his arms. 

"Shh, it's okay. Everything is all right. Just go back to sleep."

To Brian's surprise, Justin relaxes at his touch and leans his head on his shoulder, fast alseep.

Great, Kinney, are you going to sleep like this for a couple more hours? Carefully Brian lays Justin's head back down and heads into the shower. Might as well get this show on the road.

It suddenly dawns on Brian that it is Tuesday. Thank God Ryder told him to take Monday off since he worked on the Brown account all weekend. Shit, work. What the fuck am I going to do about that? Picking up his cell phone, he dials Ryder's private line at work.

"Hey, this is Brian. I've had a family emergency come up out of state. I need some time off. I'm not quite sure how long, but considering I just landed the Brown Athletics account, consider this my bonus in lieu of a monetary bonus. I'll try to call you back either later this afternoon or tomorrow."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

After another four hours of driving, they're almost at their destination. Brian keeps glancing over at Justin, who seems even more removed from the whole situation than he was the afternoon before in the hotel room. Brian knows he's going to have to deal with some issues with this kid while they're up here, not to mention the whole situation they left behind them in Pittsburgh.

As they head up I-95 in Maine, Brian sees the turnoff for Freeport. As Brian turns off, he heads down the road marked for Bradbury Mountain State Park and Pownal. Ah, cabin, sweet cabin, here we come


	8. Kept

Plot idea from the British movie Endgame. Thanks, everyone, for all the wonderful reviews. They keep me inspired.

* * *

As Brian pulls up to the cabin, he gets out of the Jeep stretching his legs. He looks at Justin, who is also climbing out of the Jeep and staring back up the drive, with a transfixed look on his face. Brian looks in the direction Justin is looking and sees nothing, yet Justin is still gazing up the drive as if he sees something.

Justin is having one of his waking dreams. As he stares back at the drive, he sees a 10-year-old boy, himself, as he runs after the police car that has his mother in the back seat. He sees the social worker grab him and forcefully put him in the back seat of the car. He watches as he sees his sister put in yet another car, never to see her again. 

Brian walks up to Justin and touches him on the arm, and Justin flinches. Seeing Justin's eyes suddenly start to focus on him, Brian says, "Grab your stuff. Let's get inside where we can get a fire started and get warm. We need to get settled in. I need to go into town and buy some groceries for us for a few days." 

Justin grabs his duffel bag and backpack out of the Jeep and follows Brian into the cabin.

"There's two bedrooms upstairs. Take one of them. I'll get a fire started down here."

"Brian, why are you doing this for me?"

"Don't ask me, Justin. Quite frankly, I really don't know. I met you one week ago, and now I'm totally fucked. We'll talk about this later, okay?" 

Justin nods his head and starts to head upstairs.

"Look, I'll be back in about 30 minutes," Brian shouts after him. "I'm going to get those groceries. Just settle in and relax. There's no phone here, no television. I'm going to see if there's anything in the papers about this, although I don't know if any news from the Pitts will be in the Portland Press Herald up here. I'll be back."

Brian sees Justin look at him from the top of the stairs, and then he heads into one of the bedrooms.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stockwell," Charlie says into the cell phone, "I think I've got a lead on who might have the kid."

"How did you come up with this tidbit of information?"

"I've been checking out the other units in the building. There's only one unit where the newspapers haven't been picked up from the newspaper slots, and that's the loft right below Robert's. It belongs to one Brian Kinney."

"Meet me at the building at 10:00 tonight. We're going to have ourselves a little search of Mr. Kinney's place. Let me see what I can find out about him on my end. Being a cop has its privileges."

"I'll meet you at 10:00 then."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Justin walks into the bedroom, he throws his duffel bag and backpack onto the floor and flops onto the bed. Why do I feel so exhausted? All I've done is sleep for the past 48 hours. Maybe it's all the nightmares. Why do I keep thinking back to my family? What's making all of those memories suddenly come up again lately? Why is Brian helping me so much? God, if there was a man I could fall in love with, it would be him. I felt something the moment I saw him. The minute he touched me it was like electricity running through my body. Jesus, Justin, just shut down for once and get some rest. Justin starts to drift off as he hears Brian re-enter the cabin and call his name.

"Justin, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just resting. I'll be down later."

As Brian scours the paper and sees nothing in it about anything suspicious going on in Pittsburgh, he decides it's time to contact Carl and find out what the hell is going on. If I'm going to put my ass on the line for practically a total stranger, I've got to find out where we stand right now, he thinks. Jesus, Brian, what's up with you? You don't do shit like this for people. You don't know this kid. You shouldn't give a shit. What's with you? Yeah, he's got a great ass, and I've wanted to have a piece of that ass from the moment I saw it, but not at this cost.

Brian walks outside and digs out his cell phone from his coat pocket, dialing Detective Horvath's private line.

"Carl, it's Brian."

"Where the hell are you? Do you have Justin with you?"

"Yeah. Did Mikey tell you about my call to him the other night?"

"Yes, he did. What the hell are you thinking? The kid is a fugitive, not to mention a murder suspect."

"Carl, he didn't kill the guy. It was an accident. He pushed him and the guy hit his head."

"Oh, really? And I guess the kicking and stomping the shit out of him was an accident, too? Did his foot just happen to slip about 20 times?"

"There's a lot of history there, Carl. I'm just beginning to understand a very little bit of it. Hopefully tonight I'll understand more."

"Well, I have to tell you, Brian, Justin was mixed up with a very nasty bunch. The guy's name was Robert Norris. I don't know if you recognize the name, but he was, purportedly, a fine, upstanding businessman in the community. It seems he kept his other life very secret. He was heavy into vice and drug trafficking." 

"Justin hasn't told me about any of that yet. All I've gotten so far is that he was this asshole's private little side of ass."

"That's not all he was, Brian. We found a stockpile of videotapes. I can only say some very interesting people paid this kid visits, and he has them all on tape. Let me just tell you that two judges and numerous city officials are under house arrest right now for having colluded with this Norris character. The FBI is doing a raid right now on his business offices. We're hoping to find some sort of documentation on who else he might have had on his payroll. For all I know, he had cops on his payroll. I have to be careful around here and make sure I don't let anything slip about you and Justin. Brian, there were some missing tapes. It looks to be about three. I don't know if Justin has them and why he would take those certain ones. Apparently he feels he needs them for some reason. Maybe you can get something out of him about those."

"Carl, I can only tell you I'll try. The kid has been pretty out of it lately. He's pretty beat up, too. Norris apparently didn't care if the kid wanted it or not, he just took him. That's what was happening the night he died."

"Do you mean to tell me he was being raped?"

"I don't know, Carl. I can't say yet, but I know it wasn't pretty."

"Brian, you aren't going to tell me where you are, are you?"

"Not yet, Carl."

There was a long pause, and then Carl suddenly blurted out, "Are you where I think you are?"

"I don't know, Carl. Where do you think I am? I'm not a fucking mind reader."

"Are you at the cabin? That's the only place I can think where you'd go in this situation."

"I'm not going to say yes, and I'm not going to say no."

"Fine. Let me find out from the FBI what's going down. Please call me back tomorrow morning when I have some more information, okay?"

"All right."

With that, Brian cuts off the connection on the cell phone and walks back into the cabin. All right, Justin, time to fess up and find out what the hell is going on.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian looks at his watch and sees that a couple of hours have gone by. Jesus, is the kid sleeping again? Might as well get some dinner started. Well, master chef Kinney, what will it be? Campbell's tomato or Campbell's chicken noodle? I think I can manage opening a can and adding water. That shouldn't be too difficult.

As Brian stands at the stove stirring the soup, he hears a yell come from upstairs. Brian runs to the bottom of the stairs as he sees Justin come out of the bedroom with a wild look in his eyes. 

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream."

"Well, come on down and have some soup. You haven't eaten since Sunday."

Brian turns his back and Justin comes down the stairs and follows Brian into the small kitchen/dining area. Brian spoons out the soup and sits down opposite Justin.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Listen, kid, don't be a wise ass, all right? I'm too tired and too fed up with this whole God damn situation right now to play some childish game. What was the dream? Maybe if you talk about it, you won't have it anymore."

"It was about my family."

"So there is a family?"

"There was a family."

"What happened to them?"

"Well, my father is dead, my mother is in prison for killing him, and I haven't seen my sister since I was 10 and social services took us away from home."

And where did this sparkling example of a family live," Brian asked with a smirk.

"You have no right to say that about them," Justin yelled at Brian. "You didn't know them, you don't know the circumstances. She was a great mom. I loved her very much. My sister was fantastic. My dad . . ."

"What? Your dad what, Sunny Boy?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Listen, I've put my ass on the line for you. I've known you one God damn week, and find myself in a load of shit. I have every right to know what's going on here."

Justin drops his spoon and pushes the bowl away from him. He looks at the table, not able to look Brian in the eyes, and starts to softly talk.

"I was adopted. I don't know who my biological parents are. Mom and dad had a farm just outside of Youngstown, Ohio. It was only a small farm, but it was great. I was eight when dad started taking me into the barn."

As Justin starts down this road, all Brian can do is listen. When he gets to the part about his father and the barn, Brian has a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach where this is going. 

"He -- he touched me and made me do things to him for two years. I never told anyone. He always told me -- he said he loved me. Then one day we were in the barn and he was touching me, and I heard my mother scream. Before I knew what had happend . . ." Justin pauses and takes a quick look at Brian before diverting his eyes again.

"Before I knew it, she had picked up a pitchfork and stabbed him in the back with it. I can still see his blood seeping into the straw at my feet. When I started kicking Robert, that's what I saw when I saw his blood pooling around his body."

Justin stops talking and puts his face in his hands, covering his eyes. 

"Everytime I've closed my eyes the past two days, all I see is the blood in the barn, and then the blood in the loft. I can't get the blood out of my mind. I see it everytime I try to sleep."

Brian sits there staring at Justin. He is trying to get his breathing under control, feeling the need to hit whoever did all of this shit to this beautiful and smart kid. All right, Brian, get ahold of yourself. You don't do love. You don't do relationships. What the hell are you thinking?

"So the police hauled your mom off. What happened to your sister?"

"I don't know. They put us into two separate foster homes. I never saw her again. I was 10 when it all happened. By the time I was 13 I had been moved to a foster home in Cleveland. I had a wonderful social worker there," Justin says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "He paid me $10 everytime I sucked him off. That went on for a whole year. I saved up quite a bit of money that year. When I turned 14 I decided it was time to get the hell out of there."

"Where did you go?"

"Where does every runaway go? I went to New York City."

"Is that where you met this Norris guy?"

With that last question, Justin looks up quickly at Brian. "I never told you his last name, Brian. Who the fuck have you been talking to? Did you call that cop friend of yours? Are you turning me in?"

Brian can see that Justin is ready to bolt, so he decides to tell Justin the truth.

"Yeah, I called Carl while you were asleep. I didn't tell him where we are. I told him what happened. He said all kinds of shit is going down right now. They found the videotapes. The FBI is raiding Norris' offices -- in fact, it's probably already happened."

Justin sits there studying Brian's face. He has the face of someone who doesn't lie about anything; if anything is brutally honest, no matter who it hurts. As he sits there, he decides he believes him.

"Okay, I believe you."

"So what happend in New York?"

"I lived with some street kids. We squatted at a few abandoned buildings, dug in the trash for food, pan-handled. I even tried hustling. That's when I met Robert, and he took me to Pittsburgh. I was 16 then."

"Why didn't you ever leave, if things were so bad?"

Justin stiffens his back and finally meets Brians' eyes again.

"Are you going to judge me?"

"No. I was just curious. If things were actually so bad, why the fuck didn't you just the hell out of there?"

"What makes you think I didn't try?"

"Yeah, so what happened?"

"I ran away twice. The first time I made it to Philadelphia. They found me and brought me back. I couldn't walk for a week that time. The next time I tried was about six months later. I only made it as far as the train station when one of his cops picked me up. That time he almost killed me. I was in bed for three weeks then, with a doctor coming in everyday to check up on me. So, Brian, are you going to ask me again why I didn't leave? Does that satisfy you?"

Brian could feel Justin's anger flowing off of him like a heatwave. He is actually starting to feel guilty about asking that question. Cowboy up, Brian. You don't do guilt, he said to himself.

"So what kind of business was Norris involved in that he needed the cops?"

"It was only a few, but one in particular. His name is Stockwell. He's on the drug task force. Whenever they do a drug bust, they keep the drugs for evidence for only so long. After the trial, they're sent to the incinerator. Stockwell would swap out something else for the drugs. It was mainly cocaine he was dealing with, so just some white powder would do. The night before Robert had his . . . accident, I heard them talking after -- well, I heard them talking. Stockwell said that procedures were changing in the department, and that they were starting to test the drugs before sending them to be destroyed. It was just random tests, but he was getting nervous about being caught. Robert talked him into just one more job, and then they would work out another scam."

"Justin, Carl said there were some missing videotapes. Who are they of?"

"Did Carl tell you what was on the videotapes?"

"Yeah, he did."

"The tapes I have are of Stockwell and me. I thought I could use them if he came after me -- use them against him to leave me alone."

"Where are the tapes?"

"They're upstairs in my duffel bag."

Brian runs his hand over his face trying to absorb all of the information that has just come his way, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

"Listen, I know it's only 8:00, but I'm exhausted. Let's head to bed. I need to talk to Carl tomorrow to find out what the FBI found. We'll take it from there."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stockwell pulls up behind Charlie in front of the building. They silently enter the building, head to the floor that has Brian's loft on it. Charlie picks the lock and they head inside.

Stockwell walks over to the office area, opening drawers and looking through all of the files. As he sits on Brian's office chair, he scans all of the photos on the desk. He picks up one in particular. His eyes widen as he recognizes Carl Horvath standing there with a group of people all looking very happy. This Brian Kinney must be one of these other guys. Jesus, Kinney has a connection with Horvath. As Stockwell sits there, he tries to remember any conversation he has had with Horvath. Then he remembers Carl talking about a cabin in Maine that he and some friends had purchased, offering it to cops if they needed to get away, just as long as none of the group was using it then.

"Charlie, I know where that little shit is hiding out."

"Where?"

"He's up in Maine."

Stockwell re-opens the drawer, remembering he saw a file labeled real estate. He picks it up and opens it, thumbs through the material. Looking up at Charlie he says, "And I have the location right here."


	9. Kept

Brian rolls over and looks at the clock on the bedside table. The clock glows 1:30 a.m. Jesus fucking Christ, why can't I just sleep a full night? Brian lays there and starts to think about the predicament he has gotten himself into. What the hell do you do now, Kinney, to get yourself out of this one? As Brian closes his eyes, the image of Justin drifts across his mind: the shiney blond hair, stormy blue eyes, full soft lips, beautiful smile, small firm body, and fabulous ass. Come on, Kinney, this is just lust. You can't be feeling anything else for this kid other than that. Well, then, why the hell did you get him out of Pittsburgh? The argument continues to rage in his head. No, I don't feel anything; don't do love, don't do relationships. But this one may be different, the other voice says in his head. Like hell, he's different. He's a glorified hustler. Yeah, but what put him in that circumstance. Give the kid a break. Even though Justin may be a mess emotionally with all he's been through, he's a good person. I can feel that about him.

As Brian lays there, he scrubs his hands over his face. Suddenly he's alert, thinking he hears something. He sits up and doesn't breathe, just listening. No, Kinney, just your imagination. I need a drink. Brian quietly walks out into the hallway, and glances in on Justin to make sure he's all right. For once he seems to be sleeping somewhat peacefully. There is a little tossing and turning going on, but no outbursts like in the hotel the night after Norris' death.

Brian is about to turn and go downstairs when he spots Justin's duffel bag, and he spies the videotapes on top. Oh, hell, Kinney, it's none of your business. But, the other voice says, don't you want to see what Justin has on this person that could make this guy's life a living hell? Slowly Brian walks the rest of the way into the bedroom and picks up the tapes, closes the door, and makes his way downstairs.

Brian stands in front of the TV and VCR with the tapes still in his hand, undecided if he should do what he's so conflicted about doing. Do I watch this shit? Brian is still undecided. He puts the tape with the oldest date on it in the machine, but before turning it on he walks away and pours himself that much-needed drink. Brian downs the shot in one hit, and then pours himself another. He walks over to the sofa and sits there with the remote in his hand, still trying to decide whether he wants to witness whatever is on those videotapes. Finally the voice in his head wins out, and he pushes "play."

Brian sees Justin the first thing on the screen, slowly taking his shirt off. Then a body comes up from behind him, pinning his arms to his sides. Brian turns his head away, not quite able to decide if this was such a good thing or not. He stands and grabs the bottle. This may be more than a two-shot night, he decides. As he turns his back on the TV, he can hear the grunts and snarls coming out of the mouth of the man. Shit, this must be the asshole cop he's so afraid of. He looks over his shoulder at the screen again, and as he glances at the picture on the screen he doesn't see Justin having a good time at all. In fact, it's as if he has turned himself off. There is no emotion. He's just a vessel to be used and filled. Brian starts to feel nauseaus. 

Brian walks back to the couch, still unable to look at the pictures that are flashing across the screen, but still able to hear all of it. Again he glances up to get another look, not quite sure if it is a dream or if he is witnessing all that he is. Jesus, Kinney, you're like some rubber-necking asshole passing the scene of an accident. You can't but help to look. Suddenly there is a voice from behind him.'

"Are you getting your rocks off to it?" Justin's voice sarcastically says.

"Fuck, Justin, you scared the shit out of me. Don't do that."

"Answer me. Does this shit get you off? Are you like them?"

Brian picks up the remote and shuts off the TV, turns around, and faces Justin.

"No, this doesn't get me off. This is sick. I just don't get it. How could you let him do that to you?"

"There you go, judging me again, you asshole."

"I'm just trying to understand, Justin. How could you do this for two years? I'm just trying to understand. Please help me to understand."

Justin takes a deep breath and sits down next to the fireplace in the chair.

"There's this comedian, he does the same act. He's done it for years. He goes on stage, tells the first joke, and then for the next hour he thinks about going on vacation or something. He tells his last joke, he takes a bow, and he drives home. He can't remember anything. He was just on autopilot. Do you know what it's like to be fucked on demand?" Justin says as he leans forward in the chair, the anger starting to rise in his voice. "You're a lump of meat, nothing, trash. You feel your whole body shutting down like a worn out car; like the comedian who is on autopilot. You need to shut down, detach yourself from everything that's happening. You tell yourself this won't take long, but you're weak and you start to think about what you're doing. And you get good at it. You find the switch -- the fucking on/off switch. You turn off the switch, you get fucked. Someone sucks you off, and you aren't there. But when it's over you have to be nice, because if you aren't nice Robert will find out and then you'll get the shit beat out of you. So, Brian, you ask me how I can do it. That's how I did it." Justin takes a deep breath and says forcefully and resolutely, "And I'm not doing it anymore! I want to love. I want to know what it feels like to be wanted for who I am. I want a normal life -- whatever the hell that is. I don't know if I really know anymore. I want to get in trouble with someone I love for coming home late from work. I want . . ."

Justin's voice starts to crack and the tears start to flow down his cheeks. Brian kneels down in front of him and cups Justin's face, running his thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. Brian looks at Justin's face as Justin continues to stare at the floor. 

"Look at me, Justin."

Justin lifts his head and looks into Brian's eyes.

"You are not nothing or trash. Do you hear me? You are brave and smart and beautiful. I don't know how you survived all these years, but I doubt that just anybody could have. You have to be very special to have lived through all that you have."

With Brian's last sentence out of his mouth, he finds himself leaning forward and kissing Justin. At first Justin stiffens, but then relaxes and leans into the kiss. Brian is kneeling in front of Justin, as he still sits in the chair. Hands are fumbling furiously as they try to lift T-shirts over heads and fumble with pajama bottoms. There is a rush and hurry to feel skin on skin. Brian motions with his hand to wait for just a moment and runs to his jacket by the front door and grabs a condom and some lube. 

"No, I was never a Boy Scout, but I do believe in being prepared," he rushed out.

As Brian kneels on the rug in front of the fireplace, he grabs Justin again and pulls him to the floor, reclining beside him as they continue to kiss. My, God, he's tastes so sweet. Who could ever hurt him? Brian runs his tongue down Justin's neck, as his hands move down to his chest, rubbing his nipples until they bright pink like cherries. Justin can feel himself starting to harden with each lick of Brian's tongue and each move his hands make. Brian pauses and looks down at Justin's luminescent eyes and decides to slow down a bit, trying to not let the images he had witnessed on the videotape creep into his mind. Take it slow with him, Brian. Everyone has just taken him. Pleasure him, he kept thinking.

Brian kisses his way down Justin's chest, circling each nipple with his tongue. As he hears Justin moan, he continues down and circles his naval, while his hand has taken ahold of his now very-hard cock and starts to stroke him, using the pre-cum as lubricant. Brian can't restrain himself any longer and takes Justin's cock in one fluid motion into his mouth, moving his head up and down and circling the head with his tongue. Justin's moans and hands in Brian's hair drives Brian into a frenzy. I can't get enough of this kid. After several minutes, Justin can no longer contain himself and shoots into Brian's mouth. Brian takes it all in. Slowly he kisses his way up Justin's body and kisses his lips. Justin pulls Brian's tongue into this mouth, tasting himself on Brian's tongue.

Brian lets Justin catch his breath and then rolls him over gently. Starting at the base of his neck, Brian slowly slides his tongue down Justin's spine, stopping at the base of Justin's buttocks. He gently spreads Justin's cheeks and starts to rim Justin. Justin's voice is catching in short, deep gasps.

"Please, Brian, enough. I want you inside of me. NOW!"

Brian sheaths himself in the condom and enters Justin, pausing to let him adjust. When Justin pushes back against Brian, Brian takes him by the hips to hold on, trying to take it slow, but, being overcome by the moment, finds himself slamming into Justin. Justin is crying out with each thrust with open-mouthed abandon.

"Am I hurting you?"

All Justin can do is shake his head no. No words can form in his mouth at the moment. Brian reaches around Justin's body to feel his cock has hardened again, and starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Brian can feel Justin's balls start to draw up, and suddenly Justin shoots all over Brian's hand. Two more thrusts and Brian fills the condom. Justin falls from all fours to the floor with Brian on top of him. Brian starts to move, but Justin grabs the back of his thigh and says just one word, "Stay."

After a few moments, Brian has to pull out, and does so gently. Justin feels an overwhelming sense of loss, like this may never happen again with this man who, in such a short period of time, he has come to love. At least he hopes that's what he feels because he knows he has never felt this way about anyone before.

Brian stands up, discards the condom, grabs the afghan off the back of the couch, lays down again next to Justin, and wraps them in the afghan. Brian wraps his arms around him, and they both settle into a dreamless sleep.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian is the first to awaken. The sun is shining into the cabin, and he rolls stiffly onto his back. Shit, sleeping on the floor is not the thing to do at my age. Damn, did I just think that? Slowly Brian lifts Justin's head to dislodge it from his arm, and Brian slowly rises. He quietly goes upstairs to change into some jeans and a sweater, grabs his cell phone, and heads outside so as not to wake Justin, to talk to Carl to find out what the hell is going on in Pittsburgh.

"Hey, Carl. Just checking in like you asked me to. What the hell happened with the raid on Norris' office?"

"Brian, all hell has broken loose down here. But, Brian, more importantly, you've got to get the hell out of there. I think one of the cops that was involved in supplying Norris with his drugs is on his way to where you are."

"How the hell does he know where we are?"

"Michael went by your place and it was broken into. The contents of your desk were all over the place. Brian, one of the cops involved knows me, so he knows about the cabin. The cops is also missing, Brian. No one can get ahold of him. He probably saw the picture on your desk and put two and two together. Michael found your place broken into this morning, so he was probably there last night. Don't ask me how he knows you're involved, I really don't give a fuck. I just know you've got to get out of there and over to the Maine State Police. I've called them and told them if they don't hear from you in an hour, they're to send a car over."

"Shit, Carl. I've gotten myself into a big hurt now, haven't I."

"You sure have, kiddo. But we need Justin here. He's probably got information about Norris that isn't in any of the books that he can testify about. That's probably why Stockwell is after him."

"Carl, Justin has some videotapes on him that have Stockwell's name on them. That's what he's after."

"Brian, just pack him up and get the hell out of there now. I can't stress that any more than I already have. If Stockwell was at your place last night and left right away, he could be there at any time. Just get out."

"All right. I'll go back inside and get Justin and head on out."

"Just go to the police barracks on Route 26 in Gray. That's the closest place for you to head, and call me when you get there. I'm on my way up. I'm taking a plane, so it should only be about and hour and a half."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian walks back into the cabin and heads for Justin who has just awoken and is sleepily rubbing his eyes. He has a slight smile on his face which quickly fades when he sees the look on Brian's face.

"What's wrong, Brian?"

"We've got to get our things together quick and head the hell out of here. Carl just told that my place was broken into and Stockwell may be on his way up here. How he figured out you are with me is beyond me, but that's for another time. Get upstairs, get dressed, and let's get the fuck out of here."

Justin runs up the stairs, throwing his things into his backpack and duffel bag, and quickly dresses in jeans and a sweatshirt. As Justin bounds down the stairs and hollers to Brian that he is ready to go, he stops dead in his tracks and his blood runs cold. Standing there is Stockwell and Charlie, and Charlie has a gun pointed at Brian's head.

"Well, well, well," Charlie says with a sneer. "Look who we finally found, Jim."

"Now, Justin," Jim starts to say, "it's not nice to play me like this. You know what I want, and I want it now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Justin says.

"Don't fuck with me, you little slut. You know what the hell I'm talking about. And if you aren't going to hand them over in the next 10 seconds, your friend's brains are going to splattered all over this nice little cabin. Now you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Justin stares at Brian and starts to walk over to the TV where the videos had been left the night before. He ejects the one out of the VCR and hands all three over to Stockwell. Charlie keeps the gun at Brian's head, forcing him to sit down on the sofa.

"Well, Justin, were you and your friend enjoying yourselves last night watching me fuck you? I didn't know you cared," snarled Stockwell. "Charlie, I do believe you were telling me that you never got to taste this little morsel for yourself, did you. How would like to demonstrate to Mr. Kinney here just what he's good for and how good he is at it?"

"No. Leave me the fuck alone," Justin said defiantly."

In one step Charlie is standing in front of Justin and backhands him.

"You don't get to tell me no anymore, whore. Robert isn't here to protect that nice little ass of yours."

Brian tries to stand to protect Justin, but Stockwell points his gun at Brian. 

"Sit it down, Kinney. Just watch and learn what the kid is really good at."

Getting aroused by the whole situation, Charlie reaches down and unzips his fly and reaches in to extract his hard cock. He puts his hand on top of Justin's head, trying to push him to his knees. Justin grabs Charlie's hand and fights him, but Charlie is bigger and stronger. Charlie pushes Justin down to his knees, Justin fighting all the way. Charlie grabs his jaw, forcing his mouth open. All Brian can do is turn his head away, not able to watch. Stockwell sees this and nudges his gun against Brian's temple. 

"You will watch this or you can die right now."

Brian turns his eyes back to Justin as he sees him take the man's cock into his mouth. Charlie's head lolls back and a sigh escapes his mouth. Suddenly there is a loud scream, as Justin bites down as hard as he can on Charlie's dick. Standing suddenly, Justin starts to push Charlie back and they go crashing through the window out onto the porch. Brian takes this opportunity, since Stockwell is distracted, to throw a right hook and dislodge the gun from his grasp. Brian is about to call out Justin's name when he hears the gun go off.


	10. Kept

AN: My sincerest apologies for taking so long to conclude this. I have the usual array of excuses; namely, life, work -- but I will admit to plain old procrastination, also. I want to say thank you for the people that e-mailed me, harranged me, and downright threatened me -- it really is appreciated. It finally got my ass in gear. Also thank you for making my first fanfic experience so enjoyable.

* * *

All but two of Brian's senses seem to have shut down. It seems that he can only hear and smell. He can hear the sound of the gunshot that had come from outside seemingly to reverberate again and again inside his brain. He can hear Stockwell making some pitiful panting sound trying to regain his senses as he lays sprawled on the floor. He can hear the sound of the little pieces of glass as they fall out of the glazing around the window that Justin and Charlie just crashed through. But it seems the most horrible sense of all is smell right now; he can smell gunpowder and blood as it drifts in on the air from outside.

Slowly Brian starts to feel. He can feel his feet start to tingle, as if they have been in an uncomfortable position and fallen asleep. And then his digits start to tingle, too. He can feel Stockwell's gun in his grip. He can also feel when it slips out of his grip, and he hears the sound it makes as it falls onto the floor of the cabin. 

Finally it seems that sight is coming back. He shakes his head slightly as if to clear his brain from a hangover. He looks down at Stockwell, still sees him half knocked out on the floor; sees the glass as it's falling onto the floor; sees the trees as they bend in the breeze, bringing to him the smell of the gunpowder and blood from outside. 

Brian almost seems hesitant to go outside, afraid of what he'll find there. He finds himself whispering, almost as if it will become his mantra, "please be all right, please be all right, please be all right." 

He really doesn't remember how he got there, but he finds himself standing over the two bodies. Justin has his back up against the pine tree, and Charlie's body is slumped over him, his back to Brian. Brian hesitantly asks, "Justin, are you all right?" Again the mantra begins again, "please be all right, please be all right, please be all right."

All he gets from Justin is a stare, eyes uncomprehending. Brian thinks that maybe he's wrong, Justin is dead, too, but then he sees the shallow breaths that Justin seems to be taking as the pool of blood slowly forms around his outstretched legs. All Brian can think is thank God it's the asshole's blood and not Justin's. It is the asshole's blood, right? I'm not wrong, am I? "Please be all right, please be all right, please be all right."

As Brian reaches down to remove Charlie's limp and lifeless body from on top of Justin, he's suddenly becoming afraid of what he'll find. Maybe Justin was actually hurt, even though he doesn't seem to be in pain, only slightly out of it. God, Kinney, who the fuck are you kidding? Slightly out of it? The kid is a mess. He has the 100-mile stare that veterans of wars talk about; eyes that have seen too much, so much that they have shut out the world and can't comprehend what's going on around them. Thankfully he can detect no damage to Justin, just his trembling hands clutching the Glock that he somehow got away from Charlie.

Brian kneels in front of Justin, slowly reaching for the gun, as Justin deliberately brings it up and points it in the direction of Brian's head. 

"Justin, it's me. It's Brian. You're all right now. There is no more danger," Brian slowly and patiently tries to tell Justin.

Brian slowly raises his hands in front of him, almost in a posture of surrender. "Justin, I'm not going to hurt you. It's Brian. I have nothing in my hands. Please let me help you."

Justin seem to somehow start to comprehend and finally takes a long deep breath, letting the gun sink to his lap. He blinks a few times and finally says, "Brian? What happened?"

As Brian begins to answer, Justin suddenly brings the gun back up in Brian's direction, but slightly to his left. Again the sound of gunshots reverberates in Brian's brain. He finally thinks that he will never get that noise out of his mind. Startled, he looks behind him as he sees Stockwell fall, the gun Brian had dropped inside the cabin in his grasp. Brian quickly looks back to Justin just in time to see the veil cover his eyes again. Whatever comprehension was starting to become apparent has slipped back into the recesses of Justin's mind. Suddenly Brian realizes that Justin has brought the gun under his chin and is starting to squeeze the trigger. 

"Justin, NO!!"

Brian lunges at Justin, dislodging the gun from his grasp as two rounds fire safely up into the treetop.

____________________

Brian has absolutely no clue how long he sat in front of Justin under the pine tree. The next thing he knows, Carl has put his hand on his shoulder and is slightly shaking him.

"Brian, what the fuck happened here?" Carl asks as he looks at the two lifeless bodies around them.

It seems all that Brian is capable of doing is to take in all that has started happening around him. He finally notices the four Maine State Police cruisers that have pulled up in front of the cabin, the crime scene van, and the EMT's that have sprinted over to them, medical bags in hand to check on the bodies and then finally on Justin. 

"Carl, it's a long story. Maybe right now isn't the time. Justin needs help."

Brian watches as the EMT's lay Justin flat on the ground. He only seems to comprehend a few words: Unresponsive, catatonic, shock.

____________________

As Brian paces the hall in front of the viewing window into the exam room, he can see Justin still sitting in the corner on the floor, the doctor trying to coax him, without using the orderlies, up onto the examining table. Nothing seems to be working.  
Giving a huff of impatience, Brian quietly enters the room, trying not to give off an aura of anger or frustration. He slowly sits on his knees and looks at Justin.

"Justin, you have to let the doctor look at you. He just needs to make sure you're okay."

No response.

"Mr. Kinney, I really don't want to sedate him, considering how docile he is right now, but I will if I have to. If he remains unresponsive, we're going to have to move him to the psychiatric ward, and I will have to get the orderlies to do that."

"Justin, please, just sit up on the table for me," Brian pleads.

No reponse.

As the doctor takes a deep breath, he motions to the two orderlies who have been standing at the exam room door. The movement startles Brian, but seems to startle Justin even more. Brian swears that if Justin could, he would dig a hole in the wall and crawl in, as he desperately tries to make himself even smaller as the men approach him.

Suddenly Brian hears Justin start to whisper. "No, no, no, no, no." Over and over again, it continues.

"All right, boys, that's close enough." Brian has had enough of this bullshit. "Doc, do you want to traumatize him even more? Do you realize that in the last 72 hours this kid, in order to survive, has killed three people; that the last person he killed was to save me? Just give me more time, see if I can get him to respond to me."

Brian slowly kneels in front of Justin again, reaching out to him. This time Justin does not pull back, but actually looks at Brian's hands. 

"Justin, I'm going to take your hands now," Brian says as he slowly moves to take Justin's hands. Brian is buoyed by the fact that Justin actually lets him touch him. Brian slowly starts to stand up, bringing Justin with him. He gets no resistance this time. Brian starts to take small steps as he inches his way backwards toward the examing table, and Justin follows him. Finally at the table, Brian puts his hands around Justin's waist and lifts him onto the table. Brian realizes that during all of this his mantra never left him: please be all right, please be all right, please be all right.

____________________

As Brian steps out of the bathroom in the hotel room, he sees Carl on the phone trying to get a word in edgewise, but seemingly unable to. Only can be one person that can have that effect on Carl, thought Brian: Debbie. It actually brings a smile to his face; and just as suddenly as the smile is there, he feels guilty for having it because the one person he would want to share that smile with is lying in the psych ward at Maine Medical Center unresponsive and uncommunicative, and probably at this point filled with Thorazine to make sure he stays docile and under control.

As Carl finally hangs up the phone he turns to Brian. "Debbie says to keep your scrawny ass out of trouble from now on, and don't scare the shit out of her like that again."

"Well, Carl, I have no future plans to play superhero again. In fact, I never had any plans in the first place. Things just sort of seemed to happen. Just like dominos falling, once they start, nothing can seem to stop them."

"While you and Justin were at the cabin, I had my partner try to find out about our little hustler."

"Carl, don't call him that. That kid saved my life. I don't know why, but I feel a connection to him. There's something there that I just can't explain."

"What, this from 'I only like fucking' Kinney? Brian, what has happened to you over the last week with this kid?"

"Carl, I wish I knew. The only thing I know right now is I want him to be okay; to not have to go through all of this shit."

"Well, anyway, as I was saying, my partner started to check up on the little -- on Justin. Seems he has an older sister, Jessica Taylor. They were split up by the foster care system -- what a wonderful thing to do to two kids, huh? Also found out some stuff about his parents. It seems his father was sexually molesting Justin when their mother found them. She took a pitchfork to him, killed him instantly. Once they hauled her off, the kids were put into the system. The mother died in prison, committed suicide. We found Jessica out in San Francisco. It turns out she's been looking for Justin for the last three years, ever since she turned 18. When he ran away from his foster home in Ohio, he just fell off the charts, no sign of him at all. Now we know why. Anyway, Jessica is on her way out here to get her brother."

At this last bit of news, Brian actually feels his heart lurch. See, God, I told you I had a heart. I have only known this kid for a week. Why the fuck do I feel this way? I suddenly feel possessive, that no way in hell am I letting someone take him from me.  
____________________

The next morning finds Brian back at the hospital. As he strides down the hall towards the psychiatric ward, he sees a young woman talking with the doctor that was treating Justin last night. She looks tired and disheveled, and Brian instinctively knows that this must be Jessica Taylor. She has the look of someone who has not slept all night, instead flying cross-country to get to her brother who she has not seen in God knows how many years; probably thinking him dead all of this time.

As he draws closer, he can hear part of the conversation between the young woman and the doctor. "So what you're telling me, Dr. Attfield, is that he's catatonic?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And what is the prognosis?"

"Well, Ms. Taylor, I don't want to couche this in terms that will be beyond you, but" --

"Okay, Doc, hold on right there," Brian hears Jessica say with an edge of anger in her voice. "I'm 21. I am in college. My fiancee is a psychiatric intern at Langley Porter Psychiatric Hospital in San Francisco. I swear to God if you talk down to me, you are going to have to restrain me. I have been awake for 48 hours. I have just gotten off of a plane after eight hours in the air. I, quite frankly, don't need your bullshit right this minute. I need to know what's wrong with my brother, what his prognosis is, and can I take him the hell out of here and back home with me. Now, those seem like pretty simple questions, as far as I'm concerned. Do you think you can wrap your mind around those and give me some straight answers?"

As Brian stood there and listened to Jessica, he practically beamed. You go, girl!! Oh, God, did I just think that? I sound like Emmett, for Christ's sake. When did I become such a Queen? He had no fear that Jessica would protect her brother; she was like a mother lion, it seemed.

"Well, Ms. Taylor, there is no need to be rude. I simply did not want to talk over you."

"I understand, Doctor. I just want you to understand that I'm not a simpleton."

"Justin, at this point, doesn't seem to be of harm to himself or anyone else. I would like to observe him for a few more days, though. I believe after this observation period, he may return with you to San Francisco; however, I would urgently recommend that he be instituionalized for a period of time."

"Fine. I understand completely. Arrangements have already been made through my fiancee. Thank you, Doctor."

As Brian heard this news, he felt his heart sinking. They were taking him away -- his Sunshine; that beautiful smile, that wonderful laugh, that quick wit -- and, well, let's face it Kinney, that fabulous ass.

Brian brought his head up as he heard the doctor walk away and could see Jessica slump down into one of those wonderfully uncomfortable hospital chairs that lined the hallway.

He walked up to the girl and cleared his throat to get her attention. "You must be Jessica, Justin's sister," Brian said.

"Yes, that would be me. And you are?"

"Brian Kinney. I'm Justin's neighbor. We came to my cabin here in Maine to get away from -- well, you know."

"Yes, unfortunatley I do. The Pittsburgh Police have been quite vivid in filling in all of the facts of my brother's life. I think the officer that got in touch with me actually liked telling me all of the details, as perverse as that sounds."

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning on taking Justin back to San Francisco. Do you think that's wise? Wouldn't he be better off here on the East Coast where he knows some people?" Brian could feel himself grasping at straws, anything, to get her to let him stay in Pittsburgh where Justin would be close to him.

Jessica, sensing that there was something going on here, and feeling too tired to mince words with this man finally said, "What, exactly, is my brother to you, Mr. Kinney?"

"Please, just Brian."

"Okay. What, exactly, is my brother to you, Brian? I know he's had sex with men. Are you one of those men? Are you one of the ones on the videotapes that some of those cops are probably jerking off to?" Jessica swore she wasn't going to sounds like a bitter bitch, but it was hard keeping the edge out of her voice, especially when she was so exhausted.

"Actually, no, I wouldn't be one of those men. I'm the guy that got him out of there. I'm the guy that tried to make him feel safe, even though I feel like it was him that made me feel safe. I'm the guy that, for some unknown reason, needs him." Fuck, did I say that out loud? Shit, shit, shit. What is happening to me? 

Finally a small smile crept onto Jessica's face. She knew this man had had sex with her brother, but she also knew he was a good person, even if he would never admit it.

"Tell you what, Brian, why don't you go in and see him. I am going to take him with me to San Francisco, but I can see you care for him. We'll talk about it later."

____________________

ONE YEAR LATER

As Brian stands on the edge of Golden Gate Park, he can see the fog as it starts to creep in under and over the Golden Gate Bridge. He scans the area and finally finds what he's looking for. Across from an outcropping of rocks he can see where Justin has set up his easel and is trying to capture the fog as it rolls into the bay.

He seems to stand there transfixed, not fully believing that this is the same person he saw a year ago. His mind wanders back to that time. Jessica checking Justin out of the hospital. Brian driving them to the Portland Internation Jetport to catch their flight to San Francisco. The feeling of loss as he watched Jessica and Justin walk down the jetway; Justin being led as if he were a five-year-old, except a five-year-old would probably be happy and excited about flying on an airplane. Justin was just compliant and nonverbal.

He thinks back on all of the phone calls that he has had with Jessica. Even though they only met face to face that one time -- until now, that is -- they have struck up a good friendship; the major thing they have in common being Justin's well-being.  
He would call Jessica every Sunday night for a status report on Justin's condition. And if for some reason Jessica didn't hear from him, she would always make sure to get in touch with him. 

Brian kept her informed of all the goings on in Pittsburgh, the politicians and judges who were caught in the fallout of the discovered videotapes. Even though Carl had promised him and Jessica that the tapes would not fall into the wrong hands, Brian had found that some of them had been sold on the Internet, and he did his damndest to try to find all that he could. Even though Justin was on the other side of the country, there was no telling if he would be touched by any of that again.  
Thank God that Carl was able to convince the DA's office that no charges were to be brought against Justin. Yeah, three people were dead at his hand, but they were all deemed self-defense. He never had to return and testify. Hell, he probably couldn't have, having been unable to speak for the first six months he was at Langley Porter, and after his seventh month there they let him move into Jessica and her fiancee's, Ryan's, home. He still had a long way to go, but at least he could see his psychiatrist on an out-patient basis.

The day Jessica had called Brian, it had scared him. Why was she calling in the middle of the day, and a Thursday at that? What had happened? All of these gruesome thoughts seemed to have run through his mind. Had Justin killed himself? That was the most constant thought. But when he heard her excitement, he knew it must be good news. He wanted to shout for joy when Jessica told him that Justin had actually spoken. And then when Jessica told him what the words were, he could feel his stomach flutter with joy. "Where's Brian?" That's a direct quote, Jessica had told him. After he hung up the phone, he told his assistant to hold all of his calls. He could barely hold it together, and he just let himself cry. 

And now here he stands at the edge of the park looking at a person that he thinks he can't live without. LESBIAN!! You're a fucking lesbian, his brain keeps screaming at him. Just last month Justin started auditing classes at the School of Fine Art at the University of San Francisco. Jessica told him that he planned to enroll as soon as he got his GED, which was already in progress. Brian was so proud of Justin, he felt like he was going to burst.

When Brian told Jessica his plans to relocate, she grilled him incessantly; and then to top it off, her fiancee got in on the action. Ryan was just as protective of Justin as Jessica was, but he finally convinced them that he was doing all of this for the right reasons. Hell, San Francisco should be every gay man's dream home, right? 

Brian remembers when Jessica finally felt Justin was emotionally ready to start communicating with Brian. Things were hesitant at first. Justin wrote him how guilty he felt involving Brian in his mess. It took a lot of convincing, but Brian finally made him realize that he didn't ever do anything he didn't want to do. And then the wooing began in earnest, for that's what it was. It was a long-distance relationship, sure, but it was like they were finally beginning to get to know each other. Brian can remember when he finally opened up to Debbie about everything that was happening with him and Justin, and she sat there utterly speechless and dumbfounded; and then finally engulfed him in one of her rib-cracking hugs and said how proud she was that he had finally grown up. 

Brian takes a deep breath and tries to look like he's walking casually toward Justin, but inside he feels his heart pounding like a race horse's. Am I too eager? Don't appear too eager. Breathe, Kinney, just breathe. Slow down, you're walking too fast. Don't talk too loud when you get there, don't frighten him.

Brian stops behind Justin, letting his shadow fall across the canvas that sits on Justin's easel. He doesn't quite know what to say at this point. All of these witty remarks were in his head when he walked over here, but they have now seemed to disappear. God, when did I become such a fag?

Justin has been sensing Brian ever since he showed up 30 minutes ago, standing at the edge of the park watching him. Jessica had been dropping not-so-subtle hints all week that he might be getting a special visitor; and Justin had deduced that it could only be Brian. When he saw him out of the corner of his eye earlier, he thought everyone in the park could probably hear his heart beating.

Justin decided to play it cool. Since apparently Brian wasn't going to say anything, just stand there, Justin finally turned around and flashed Brian a big smile and said, "Well, it's about fucking time you walked over here."

That seemed to bring Brian out of his trance-like state, as he grabbed Justin and hugged him like his life depended on it. 

"I'm home, Sunshine."


End file.
